Prussia and Gilbert and the World
by rookanga
Summary: After deciding that he can't keep living in Germany's basement, Gilbert becomes a reporter and news anchor for a Berlin-based channel, but the life he has built for himself begins to crumble when the secret of the nations is jeopardized. PruCan
1. Conspiracy

**Hello, and welcome to my story. Let's get the disclaimer out of the way, shall we? Prussia, as the hero of the story, would you do the honors?**

**Prussia: Awesome! Rookanga does not own Hetalia-Axis Powers, or the Awesome Me.**

**Yes...thank you. Anyway, this story is pretty much a lot of Prussia pretending to be a human, even though we all know he's much too awesome to be just any human. I sort of forgot what I was going to say. Oh yeah! I have three more chapters typed up, so I'll try to remember to get another up next week. Well, then. Shall we?**

_I was awesome today. I totally scored the best job ever, without help from the government. Well, actually, the natural need of the people to cater to my every wish helped, but I did it on my own. I got a job working for Deutsches News. I just went in for an interview, and they up and gave me a whole show. How awesome is that? _

Gilbert Beilschmidt was indisputably the most popular news anchor in Germany. Who didn't love a guy that was sweet enough to cute little birds nestle in his hair on air, but tough enough to stand up for a little albino girl who was being harassed. It certainly didn't hurt that he was attractive, but not enough so for the other men in Germany to feel threatened. And everyone, especially those in East Germany, found his always-cocky manner to be strangely endearing.

To the people that knew him personally, though, that aspect of him was just annoying. But here in Berlin, his colleagues at Deutsches News all liked him anyway. They all thought it was because he was above them in the journalism hierarchy, and they wanted a spot at the top. Gilbert himself knew better.

Gilbert had once been the Teutonic Knights. Then he was Prussia–the _Awesome_ Prussia, mind you. Then he spent forty or so years as Soviet-controlled East Germany, and now he personified roughly the eastern half of Germany, although since he had relinquished his power to his brother (he figured his taste for being a country had blown away over the tundra of Siberia, and what was the point of being a nation when your little brother insisted you had to focus on engineering instead of declaring war on every nation that bothered you, anyway?), most of the other nations figured he'd somehow managed to hold on to life even though he was no longer a nation. He usually didn't show up to World Meetings, but he liked to show up sometimes, especially when Austria had tried super hard not to let the information of where the World Meeting was being held get to him, not knowing that he was given the information from the bosses like everyone else.

Still, though, Gilbert liked attention, and pretending not to be a landmass to avoid responsibility meant that the other nations spent a lot less time paying attention to the Prussian. So Gilbert got his boss to make him a fake childhood, and shoved his way into the big leagues of broadcast journalism. It was an ideal job; he had to work pretty much every day, but his show, _The Awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt_ (he could thank his boss for that one, too–he really liked his current boss), aired live at eight at night, so he had a lot of the day free. He just let the interns and the editing guys work behind the scenes while he spent his day sleeping, drinking beer, calling people *cough cough* Hungary *cough cough* to bother them, and when he finally did show up for his show, chatting with the other reporters, Else Müller, Gerhard Junger, and Kartoffel, as Gilbert had affectionately named the pudgy man. (Confession time: Gilbert didn't know the guy's real name. Talk about a good boss.)

"And we're live," an intern (who was older than Gilbert) said. Gilbert had trained himself not to wince into all that light, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt his especially sensitive eyes. Albinism. Look it up, dumkopfen.

Gilbert turned on his fifty-watt smile and aimed it at the camera. "Hi, welcome back to _Awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt_. Yup, that's me, and no, I _definitely_ didn't choose the name." Up the sarcasm. Easy chuckle.

"Thankfully," Gilbert continued, more serious now, "there are no particularly heinous crimes being committed right now in Germany, so let's go to Julian, live in New York. Julian, what's going on there?"

Julian, who was a big part of _AGB_, although Gilbert rarely spoke to him without it being through a camera, because Julian was a foreign correspondent, stood on a street corner in New York City, a clear view of the UN building behind him. Gilbert knew the very corner. He'd often left World Meetings to go and smoke there.

"Gilbert, there's been some nervousness here, ah, as you can see, I'm in front of the UN building in New York City, it's right here behind me, and there's been some excitement because for almost a week now, people passing by have heard enraged shouting in several languages, and earlier today, someone was actually pushed from a third floor window. Luckily it was very low down, so the man was rushed to the hospital, and is reported to be in stable condition."

Gilbert grinned, feeling a little freer now that the audience couldn't see him. There was a reason the nations were never allowed to hold their meetings in high places, and that reason involved a length of rope, a prized piano, and a certain albino.

"Thanks, Julian," Gilbert said, half turning his spinning chair so he faced forwards. "Wonder what's going on there. Speaking of New York, yesterday…"

It was nine thirty. His _AGB _ran for an hour and a half, which seemed weird to Gilbert, but he didn't argue.

"Gil," said Else. He looked up, but it was still bright, so he slid on a pair of sunglasses and looked again. Else was holding out a can of Becks.

"Ach, _ja_," he said. Taking the beer from her, he gave her cheek a kiss. "_Ich liebe dich_."

She sighed. "Why are you such a flirt? It's not like you can ever get the girl, anyway."

Gilbert winked at her. "Maybe it's not the girl I want to get. Well there are some girls, actually. Male, female, doesn't matter to me."

"Truly?" Else said. "Because you always seem pretty straight to me." She had never heard that her boss was bisexual before, and him declaring it in such a casual manner surprised her.

"Oh, yeah?" Gilbert laughed. "How so?"

"Well, for one, you only flirt with girls."

"That's because I'm trying to see if any girls can resist my immense charms and awesomeness."

Else snorted. "What awesomeness?"

Gilbert's eyes widened. Or at least Else thought they did. She couldn't see behind his glasses, but his eyebrows rose significantly.

Gilbert looked like he was about to have an aneurism, so Else said, "Oh, there's Ernest." She waved someone over.

"Who?" asked Gilbert. Oh, Kartoffel. So that was his name. "Oh, right, Ernest. Right." Ouch. Totally unawesome.

Kartoffel (Gilbert couldn't help thinking of him by that name. He was just so much like a potato. Gilbert didn't mean to be a jerk or anything.) came up to Else and Gilbert, followed by Gerhard. The former gave the albino a dirty look. Uh-oh. Time to utilize charm to win over this guy. How had Gilbert never noticed that he hated him before?

"So, Ernest. How was your day?" Lame, but people loved to talk about themselves. (Gilbert knew from very, very personal experience.)

Kartoffel coughed. "Good, thank you, Gilbert."

Gilbert tried again. "So what did you do?"

"I went shopping, took my little girl to the park." Kartoffel glared at Gilbert again, as if to say, "She's a little girl. There will be no harming her, hear?" He added, "And you?"

"Oh, you know," Gilbert answered vaguely, mainly because he had spent the day in question teasing Poland about how part of his land had once been controlled by Prussia, and snickered when Poland answered, "Oh, yeah? Well, now you, like, have no land."

"Well, I had a wonderful day," Else put in. "Do you want to hear about it?"

"Not particularly," Gilbert said, sounding intentionally bored.

"Well," said Else. "What happened to nice, flirty Gilbert?"

"You shot me down," Gilbert said. "I don't care anymore."

"And you reveal your true colors," Else said.

"I'm like a delicious candy," Gilbert said. "Crushed graham cracker on the outside, but with plenty of holes to fall onto the hard chocolate shell. And underneath the chocolate shell is a Peep."

"What's a peep?" asked Else.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. None of the others could see it, but they knew he was doing it. "American candy. It's like a super-sweet marshmallow thing. The life and nectar of the Gods. I get them when I go to Canada to visit my friend. I like them because they look like Gilbird."

"I still can't get over the fact that you named your pet after yourself," Gerhard interrupted.

"Are you suggesting that Gilbird doesn't deserve the highest possible amount of awesomeness he can achieve?"

Else cut in again, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "So how do we get past the chocolate to the Peep?"

"There are cracks," Gilbert said. "You guys have it easy if you want to find the Peep. Other people have already cracked the shell for you. All you have to do is find them."

"I'm not buying this," Else said. "This still sounds a lot like flirty Gilbert. I think you're just graham cracker crumbles over hollow chocolate."

Gilbert smiled. "Blowing holes in my strategy, are you? How unawesome."

"That's not a word," Kartoffel muttered.

"Fine. You're fired."

Kartoffel gaped at Gilbert. "F-fired? But I have a wife and a daughter! Please, Mr. Beilshmidt, _bitte schön_!"

"Stop groveling," Gilbert snapped. "You're not fired."

The man stopped immediately. "Danke! Danke!" he cried.

Gilbert sneered. "Is this how you act all the time? Stoic and disapproving until you feel threatened? What kind of man are you?"

Kartoffel drew himself up to his whole, less-than-impressive height. "I'll tell you, Gilbert," he raged. "You're a jackass who cares about nobody but yourself. I bet you don't even know how, in your own words, unawesome you are. You chastise me for being weak? You're just the same! You're weak, and pathetic, and–"

Gilbert cut him off. "Where are you from?"

Kartoffel seemed taken aback. "What does that have to do with the question?"

"Just. Answer. It," Gilbert said, stepping forward threateningly.

"Munich," Kartoffel humphed.

"Ah," Gilbert said, stepping back. "That makes sense."

"What are you talking about?" Kartoffel looked confused, then angry. "Is that some sort of swipe at my city of birth?"

"No," Gilbert said. "You are the weak one, Kartoffel, not me. Someday you'll realize that." And Gilbert Beilschmidt, the Teutonic Knights, Prussia, East Germany, turned and walked away, ignoring the shocked looks from his colleagues.

Gilbert sighed and kicked off his shoes. It had been rough at work. And Kartoffel was a real _arschloch,_ that was for sure. But still…he'd reminded Gilbert a bit of himself. Not that Gilbert thought of himself as weak.

The first order of business was to change out of his jacket, dress shirt, and tie. Second was to call West for an update on the state of Germany. Ironically, Gilbert didn't trust the news for information.

The third thing Gilbert did after getting home was to check Twitter. Gilbert had a personal one and one for his show.

On AwesomeGB, Celia_coolness wrote,

Hiya Gil! I love your show, but are you ever going to do something about that conspiracy? #don'ttrustthesystem

He replied,

What conspiracy?

It didn't take long for Celia_coolness to respond.

Wow, for a news guy you're really not well informed. :P The conspiracy theory about the countries. How they're people, and the government is hiding them from us. #don'ttrustthesystem #don'ttrustthenews

Gilbert's breath became shorter. His mind raced. Surely someone in his group would have heard about this, and then he would have heard about it. Gilbert may have had a big mouth, but that didn't mean he didn't understand the need to keep quiet about this.

_Okay, Prussia,_ he told himself, _you're awesome. Nothing can get you. Calm down and respond to that girl. Rationally, as if this doesn't worry you._ He set his fingers on the appropriate places on the keyboard, and began to type:

Sorry, but at AGB we report news, not theories. Come back with solid evidence, or at least a reason why it's important.

And then Celia_coolness gave the reply Gilbert had been dreading.

But there is evidence. Just look it up. #don'ttrustthesystem #don'ttrustthenews #notatheory #googleit

Gilbert hurriedly pulled up a new tab and searched _country personification conspiracy_. There was a whole website devoted to it. He clicked on the link, and his browser turned black.

Huge white letters were printed on the webpage: WHO IS YOUR COUNTRY REALLY? There were message boards about possible country sightings. Gilbert clicked on it, frantically looking for a description with any semblance to a country he knew.

Someone had met an auburn-haired Italian guy, which worried Gilbert for a moment, but then he read that the man had been totally dissing every other culture, and Gilbert relaxed, because Italy wasn't like that.

Still, though, Gilbert's fingers were cold as dry ice. He could barely keep them from shaking as he clicked around the webpage. Finally, he found a page that displayed a number of reasons why this conspiracy was not just a theory.

A U.S. government official said that there are documents referring to America as "he" and constantly referencing someone named Alfred. These documents are from several different points in history.

_Verdammt_. It was always America, wasn't it? Not that it was America himself–the dude was irresponsible, but not this much. Just Americans in general were so careless, in his experience.

There are letters of correspondence between someone called, "P" and Frederick the Great, King in Prussia. "P"=Prussia? Click here to see the letters.

This, at least, wasn't a surprise to Gilbert. He knew that some of his correspondence to his favorite boss was on the Internet. He just honestly couldn't see how that could prove that there were personalities of countries.

But then again…he hadn't read that letter in ages. Maybe there was something.

Anyway, Gilbert had no desire to go through his memories. This girl was deluded. That was evidence? He went back to Twitter and wrote:

Celia_coolness Sorry, but there's nothing conclusive. But write me if you find anything!

Gilbert sat back, sighing deeply. He was _mulmig im Magen_. Butterflies were flitting their way around his stomach, and his breath was short. Forget it, there was no way to describe the feeling.

He reached for the phone to call Germany again, but at the last moment drew his hand back. Maybe his brother had already known about this. It was true that Prussia had been fairly distant lately; if he didn't contribute anything, Germany wouldn't have told Prussia anything if he thought he wouldn't be of any help. Prussia hadn't attended a World Meeting since New Hampshire.

But this–this was rather important. Germany wouldn't have kept this from Prussia. And Prussia had no right to keep this from the other countries.

He dialed Germany's cell number.

"_Was, Bruder_?"

Prussia spun his chair around approximately 180 degrees, and said, looking serious, as if it were the final moment of a television episode, "Hey, West. We need a World Meeting."


	2. Else and Gilbert

**Hi guys! So a reviewer has expressed concern at the PrussiaXOC thing. Although Prussia sees Else as a friend (you've all gathered that it's Else, right?) she is the one that ****_like _****likes him. In fact, if you hate OCs, skip this chapter. It's pretty much just her obsessing over him and Prussia just wants to talk about Disney movies.**

**Also, I will be focusing more on Albinism, except I don't really understand all of the eye conditions that come along with it, so I'm just going to graze over those and focus on light sensitivity. I'm being kind of unrealistic about it because in the anime, Prussia has no such problems.**

**If you haven't gathered this yet, when I call him Prussia he's in country mode, and when I call him Gilbert he's in human mode, if you know what I mean.**

**Now for some bad news: Ugh, guys, starting this chapter and continuing for an unknown period of time, Prussia travels further down the dark road to OOCland. I'm doing my best to keep him out of that wretched place, but please bear with me for a while.**

**Discalimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its affiliates. **

_I was awesome today._

_ After so many years, I think I've finally established a human connection. Her name is Annemarie. She is very pretty, but I have Canada. Anyway, I'm excited to get to know her better. I just hope she isn't homophobic._

Germany and Prussia had just finished working out the details of the emergency World Meeting they had set in Berlin and sent out a mass email with the details, although they didn't include what the meeting was about.

Prussia had been right. Germany knew nothing of this, and he assured his eastern counterpart that none of the other nations had mentioned anything of the sort (though, admittedly, some nations wouldn't tell anyone and instead plot to see how they could use this to their advantage).

The doorbell rang. "_Ein moment, Bruder,_" Prussia said, getting up to see who it was. Through the peephole was none other than Else Müller.

"_Scheiße_," Gilbert hissed.

"What's wrong?" Germany asked.

"Nothing," said Gilbert. "_Gar nichts_. It's nothing to worry about. Just someone coming at a less than opportune moment."

"Why are you and your friends always up all night?"

"Because we can sleep all morning," Gilbert said. "I have to go. Tell me what the others say."

He hung up and answered the door. "It couldn't have waited until tomorrow?"

"I wanted to talk with you alone."

"Is this about something I said? Because I swear I didn't mean to offend you."

"What? No, you haven't offended me. Though that thing with Kartoffel was…weird."

Gilbert sighed loudly. "Oh, so this is about _that_. I don't know. I'm barely more than a teenager. I have mood swings sometimes."

Else's eyes bugged out. "Do you seriously not remember what you said to me?"

Gilbert crinkled his eyebrows, partially because he was trying to remember what had gone on before Celia_coolness frightened him so badly he became halfway responsible, but mostly because he knew it made him look cute. Finally he remembered. That. Sometimes countries had been hanging around with other countries so often he forgot the things that held magnitude for humans. "This is about how your mind was blown when I told you I don't have a sexual bias."

She blinked. "Well, um, if that's how you want to put it."

He smiled. "It _is_ how I want to put it, thanks." Why did Gilbert get so much enjoyment out of being a pain in the ass? And yes, he did realize he was annoying, unlike America. He just didn't particularly care. At least not until 1947 when, after thousands of years, he finally saw that the world was not what he thought it was. But that was a matter for another time.

"I just–I don't know how you just put it out there, as if I already knew." Else's lips were pursed, and they were not large to begin with. It was actually kind of cute, usually, but Else needed an upper lip wax. Dammit. Now he was becoming Poland.

"Well, I forgot that you guys didn't know." Gilbert shrugged. "All of my other friends know. It's not even a big deal. Unless you're homophobic, in which case, get the preaching over with already, please."

Poor Else. She was having a truly confusing night. "I don't–I'm not…"

"Good," Gilbert interrupted. "Now, do you have to go, or would you like to come in for a drink?"

"Um, I guess I can stay for a bit."

Gilbert stepped to the side, internally cursing himself. Why had he done the gentlemanly thing instead of just shutting the door in her face? The whole conspiracy thing had put him on edge, and he wanted to call his friends just to be sure no one had come up to them saying something along the lines of, "Hey you! Country! I know that there's a government conspiracy, and now I'm going to drag you to my underground lab and dissect you!"

Else, meanwhile, was standing awkwardly, her coat slung over one arm. "So this is your apartment." She began to walk around, making herself at home. "It's cute, in a bachelor-y way."

"Is it." He didn't like the way she was walking around the edge of his living room, inspecting everything. She bent down to where Gilbird was resting on a pillow and cooed at him. She picked up a picture of he and Germany.

Uh oh. That picture had been taken in 1992, and it had a timestamp. He'd better get her away from that as soon as possible.

It took two steps for Gilbert to reach Else. He took the frame from her hand and placed it facedown on the shelf. "Can I take your coat?"

Else turned to him, looking surprised. "Yes, please." As he took it from her arm, she commented, "Maybe there really is a Peep inside."

"There is," he confirmed, "but you haven't reached it yet. I'm just feeling extraordinarily polite right now."

"It shows," she complemented.

Meandering to the kitchen, and hoping she followed, Gilbert said, "Do you want something to drink?"

"Water will be fine," she called back. She hadn't come. _Better get back before there's a number 3 on that Website's list_, he thought. He trusted Else. Just not enough to feel that she'd keep quiet if she had evidence that Gilbert was not who he claimed to be.

He brought her the water as fast as he could, and thankfully nothing had visibly changed. It was so agitating to have her in his house, especially now.

"I think we should get to know each other better," Else said, a bright smile suddenly on her face.

"Okay…?"

"What's your favorite movie?"

"Um…anything by Oskar Messter. You?"

She smiled. "Don't laugh."

"I won't," Gilbert promised.

"_Pocahontas_."

"_Pocahontas_? The Disney film?"

Else blushed. "_Ja_." He laughed. She hit him on the arm. "You said you wouldn't laugh!"

"I'm not laughing at you!" Gilbert protested. He was laughing at how, whenever America watched _Pocahontas_, his started to cry over the mother he had murdered, but tearfully admitted that it was not all that accurate. "But tell me, how does a girl like you get into that stuff?"

"I watched it in theaters when I was younger," she said. "I didn't think much of it until I was older, when I got really into those Karl May American Wild West novels. Then I watched it again, and fell absolutely in love."

Gilbert grimaced. "Really? I think it's one of the worst Disney movies of all time."

She put her hand on her hip. "Oh, really? Why's that?"

"Are you kidding? John Smith? He's not even good-looking, and he's certainly not as awesome as I am."

"Okay. So what Disney movies do you like?"

Gilbert chewed his lip. He generally stayed away from American films, mainly because America wanted everyone to watch them, but he loved Disney movies nonetheless. After Gilbert had returned from Russia's house, he and Canada had spent every Sunday watching movies, mainly Disney. "Um…I like _The Aristocats_. And _The Lion King_. And, um, _Peter Pan. Mulan_ is always promising. I LOVE _The Incredibles _and _Bolt._ _Tangled_ and _Finding Nemo _are both great." He thought for a moment. "Oh! How could I forget? My all time favorite is _Ratatouille_!" Gilbert laughed. "My friend _loves The Incredibles_. He's got this really awful hero complex. It's annoying."

Else laughed too. "_He's_ annoying?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gilbert stopped laughing and stared at Else. For a moment he had forgotten the nervousness that had been eating away at his insides like termites.

Else, noticing his quietness, stopped laughing too. He really was barely more than a teenager. She didn't know exactly how old he was, but he couldn't have been older than twenty-five. How had he risen so far in such a short time?

Still, the albino was only a boy. Some maternal instinct of Else's dictated that she had to take care of and protect him, while the thirty-one year old Else wanted to jump him on his kitchen floor. She was pretty sure that those two emotions, when together, were disgusting.

Gilbert Beilschmidt was wearing loose fitting black jeans and a grey T-shirt. She wasn't sure, but Else thought that if you lifted up the shirt _just a little_, you would see bumps of his hips protruding above his belt. The thought made her hot with wanting, but also horrified that his pants hung so low. She knew, intellectually, that Gilbert had, in all likeliness, been having sex since he was fifteen. But she refused to believe it. She wanted to be his first time; she wanted him to never have one.

The man in question, noticing her sudden serenity, asked worriedly, "What's wrong?"

She shook herself off. He was her boss, no matter how young or hot he was. "Nothing."

The phone rang. Gilbert moved to answer it.

"_Hallo_?"

It was Canada. "H-hi, Prussia. I was just, um, wondering, um, really no need to answer if you don't want to…"

"Matthew, quit being timid," Gilbert snapped in English. "Just spit it out already."

"Why did you call a World Meeting?"

"That'll be explained at the World Meeting."

"You-you can't tell me?" Canada sounded hurt. Gilbert winced.

"I'm sorry, Matthew," he said in Japanese. "There's a human in my apartment right now. Call me back tomorrow."

"O-okay."

"Just not too early," Gilbert finished, back to English. He sighed as he hung up. Canada really needed to be more assertive. Gilbert hoped the guy would call him back tomorrow instead of just waiting until the meeting.

"Who was that?" Else asked. "Why were you speaking so many languages?"

"Oh, just my friend from Canada." Gilbert waved her off. "He doesn't speak German, but I speak English, so we use that to converse. And we're learning Japanese together. We were practicing." Lies, lies, lies.

"You sounded pretty good," Else said, impressed.

Gilbert's mouth suddenly formed an "O" and he clapped once. "I forgot _Lilo and Stitch_!"

Else laughed in surprise, short and loud. "You really like Disney movies, don't you?"

Gilbert smiled more shyly than Else had ever seen him smile before. "Yeah. Me and my Canadian friend watched them all the time back when I lived with him."

"You lived in Canada?"

"Yeah."

"So you lived with him…?"

Gilbert was horrified to feel a blush quickly coming over his face. He blushed so easily! "Yeah. Like that."

Else grinned. "So why don't you live with him anymore? You two still seem on good terms."

"Yeah," Gilbert replied. "But it was my semester abroad in college, so I had to go back. But what about you? Got a boyfriend?"

Else shrugged. "Nah, not right now."

"I would set you up with someone, but my friends aren't really the kind of people to get mixed up in relationships. Especially with girls. But I guess there might be girls who…no, never mind. But maybe…well, he's scary. I'm not going to set you up with _him_."

Else had been listening to him with some amusement. "I'm not even going to ask."

"Good."

Else looked up at the ceiling. "What's with the lights?"

Gilbert looked up too. "Oh, those? They're LED lights. It's just Christmas lights, really, but I use them all year round. Easier on my eyes, you know."

"If your eyes are so sensitive, what on earth compelled you to be on TV?"

"I like attention," Gilbert said. "Besides, I've been trying for a long time to not be affected as much by the light. I can't see anything, but I don't shut my eyes."

"So how do you read the TelePrompTer?"

"I don't. I just memorize the key points of what I'm supposed to say and improvise the rest."

Else's eyebrows shot up. "Really? That explains a lot."

Gilbert's mouth opened in mock offense. "Hey!"

All of a sudden, the comfortable world they had been sharing slipped away. "I, uh, I guess I'd better get going if I want to sleep," Else said.

"Yeah," Gilbert agreed, standing straighter and retrieving her coat. "Um…see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, uh, okay. Um, bye."

"_Auf weidersehen._"

Gilbert shut the door behind Else. At that moment, all the stress of everything came crashing down on him. "I have to go to bed," he said to himself.


	3. The World Meeting

_ I did something awesome today. I totally crashed a World Meeting. West was really mad. Haha! And everyone had actually been getting a tiny _something_ done before I came. I am awesome!_

"The World Meeting will now come to order," Germany said authoritatively.

"What's this about, then?" England asked.

"Maybe if you would be quiet, it would be explained," France countered.

"Why is Prussia here?" asked Austria, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a handkerchief, even though there had been nothing there to begin with. "He's not even a country anymore."

"Prussia is East Germany, still," Germany shouted, leaving no room for discussion. "He would just rather waste his time at Deutsches News."

"Well, whatever's going on, I'm sure I can fix it," America said. "'Cuz I'M THE HERO!"

"Oh, shut up, you twit."

"Iggy, I'm hurt."

"Ohonhonhon."

"Why can't anyone ever get along, aru?"

"Getting along was invented in Korea, da ze!"

"Shut up or I will shoot you in four different languages!"

"My big brother is the most wonderful big brother ever, isn't he, Mister?"

"Oh, shut up, little bastard girl."

"Be nice, Romano. Think about pasta."

"Don't talk about my sister that way! I will shoot you!"

"Romano didn't mean it, Señor Switzerland. He just needs tomatoes."

"Shut your mouth, tomato bastard!"

"If nothing's going to get done, I think we should become one, Brother!"

"Why do not you become one with Latvia instead, huh?"

"No, please no, Mister Russia! Uh, h-hi Belarus."

"I WANT BROTHER!"

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!"

"Germany?"

"No, it's Prussia."

"Well, that's…unexpected."

"If Prussia says it, I guess it doesn't really matter."

"I th-think we should listen to what Prussia says, eh?"

"Did you hear something?"

"I don't think so."

"Should we go back to fighting then, frog?"

"It is an awful pastime, but I must defend the world from _Angleterre_'s horrible food, so I sacrifice myself."

"SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO MY BROTHER!"

"Germany?"

Germany slammed his hand on a tall stack of paper. "Some information has surfaced regarding a conspiracy theory that all nations are embodied. While the theorists only have a fragment of truth, _mein bruder_ and I think that we should take precautions. Do be careful about what you do in public. No more throwing people out of windows, hear?"

"Yes, Germany," the nations chorused.

"Good," Prussia said. "I have to go to work."

"We should watch his broadcast, right Romano?" said Spain.

"Actually, there is no broadcast tonight," Prussia said. "I have to leave for a work retreat." He rolled his eyes.

"Thank God," Romano muttered.

"Do you have sunscreen?" Germany said worriedly.

"Yes, of course."

"Long sleeve T-shirts?"

"West, how could I cover up these awesome arms?"

"Baseball cap?"

"_Bruder_, I am much too awesome to wear a hat."

"Well, make sure you put sunscreen on your ears."

Gilbert sighed dramatically. "_Ja, Bruder_. I'm a big boy. No need to worry."

"I know," Germany replied, his hands still hovering around his brother.

"Bye, guys!" Gilbert shouted, backpedaling out of the building.

**Short chapter this time. It's also early, but I just found out that a teacher at my school, who I used to have for music and stuff, died. He had two little kids. I dedicate this chapter to him. RIP**

**I feel like people expect World Meetings to be funny, and I wanted this to be funny, but I'm not great at humor. Review and tell me what you think. Should I do another supposed-to-be-funny chapter later or leave it for people who can actually write like that?**


	4. Work Retreat

_I was awesome today. My brother abandoned me in Poland after he invaded, so I camped out by myself. I was fine! That'll show that _arschloch._ I'm so awesome._

They took a big bus. Gilbert and Else sat across the aisle from Gerhard and Kartoffel. Gilbert and Kartoffel looked pointedly away from each other, except for when they were glaring at each other.

They would be camping in the woods near a lake. As soon as Gilbert stepped out of the bus, birds flocked over to him.

"Wow, bird whisperer!" Else laughed.

"Birds are wonderful creatures!" Gilbert shouted. "They are so cute and awesome!"

"Amazing…" Gerhard whispered.

"Not that amazing," Kartoffel muttered.

The other guys who worked for Gilbert at _AGB_ unloaded the bus and everyone pitched the tents.

"Time for trust exercises, everyone!" the guy that Deutsches News sent exclaimed.

"Save me, Fritz," Gilbert whispered into his cross.

The guy that Deutsches News sent led everyone to a sunny clearing.

Gilbert raised his hand. "Can't we do it in the shade?" he complained. "I'm already sunburned just from sitting in the bus."

"We're going to do it here," the guy that Deutsches News sent said.

Gilbert grumbled and joined them.

They played at stupid name game, and when they were done:

"Let's do a human knot," the guy that Deutsches News sent suggested. "Everyone grab the hands of two other people."

Kartoffel and Gilbert grabbed hands, glaring at each other.

"Now try to undo everyone," the guy that Deutsches News sent instructed.

They tried at first. Then Gilbert and Kartoffel got tired of cooperating.

"You're a jackass," Kartoffel said, tugging the whole knot in his direction.

"No, you are," Gilbert responded, pulling the other way.

They continued this way for a while, until Gilbert pulled too hard and the whole knot fell apart, spewing the participants onto the grass.

"O-kay," the guy that Deutsches News sent said. "Should we just go swimming, then?"

Gilbert crossed his arms. "I'm not taking my shirt off until the sun goes down." When the guy that Deutsches News sent opened his mouth to argue, Gilbert added, "If I get skin cancer, you're paying my medical bill. And if I die, you'll feel guilty forever."

"Fine," the guy that Deutsches News sent conceded. "We'll do another trust exercise."

The entire group groaned in unison.

"This one is called Eye Contact," the guy that Deutsches News sent continued. "We all stand in a circle and look down. Then we look up at the same time and look at someone. If two people look at each other at the same time, they are both out."

"Gilbert has to take off his sunglasses," Kartoffel said with a smirk.

Gilbert made an immature sound, but he took them off.

The poor guy that Deutsches News sent startled back. He apparently didn't watch _AGB_, because he looked slightly terrified at Gilbert's red eyes.

Gilbert smiled menacingly at him.

When they played, Gilbert kept looking up at the guy that Deutsches News sent. Suffice it to say, he won.

"Okay!" the guy that Deutsches News sent said, now looking completely frazzled. He was avoiding Gilbert like the plague. (As he should. Gilbert had been around for the black plague epidemic, and it sure wasn't pretty.) "Should we do something with blindfolds, then?"

"No," Gilbert and Kartoffel said at the same time.

"Great!" the guy that Deutsches News sent cried. "Ernest, get up here!"

Kartoffel grumbled and meandered over to the guy that Deutsches News sent. He blindfolded Kartoffel.

"Can I get a volunteer to verbally lead Ernest and help him to pick up the objects on the ground?" Gilbert raised his hand innocently. The guy that Deutsches News sent looked relieved that he was finally trying. "Take it away, Gilbert."

"Go straight," Gilbert said. "Continue. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going."

"Ow!" Kartoffel scraped at the tree Gilbert had led him into. He ripped off the blindfold. "What is wrong with you?"

"You tell me," Gilbert said, a smile never leaving his face (a trick he had learned at Russia's place).

The mood was tense for the rest of the day, until dusk, when Gilbert said, "I think it's okay to swim now."

At the lake, Gilbert winced at the sight of Kartoffel in a Speedo. He himself was wearing trunks. He thought he looked awesomer in them.

"Come in, Gilbert!" Else cried, splashing water in his general direction. Gilbert shrugged and ran into the lake, splashing her back.

She shrieked and splashed him again. He turned away from her, so the water only got his back.

"Hey do you have a tattoo?"

Gilbert reached up to the bird he had tattooed on his shoulder, suddenly nervous. If Else recognized it as the bird on the Prussian flag…

"Uh…yeah."

"It's nice." She said. "You really like birds, don't you?"

"Yeah," he said, and then, while she was standing right next to him, splashed water in her face.

Else seemed about to splash him back, but then asked, "Where's Gilbird?"

"Oh, he's around," Gilbert said. "He'll come back before we leave."

"Good," she said, and jumped on his back. Surprised, Gilbert fell into the water.

"Crazy!" he accused, standing laboriously and shaking Else off.

The guy that Deutsches News sent called at the crowd, "Remember, everyone, this is a public place where anyone can be, so please be respectful!"

As if called, two teenagers appeared from the woods, and walked along the edge of the lake toward Gilbert and his underlings.

When they got closer, Gilbert could hear that they were speaking Japanese. The girl had long brown hair with two blue ribbons and the boy had bright orange hair.

The girl kissed the boy on the cheek. "Stop it, all right?" His voice was harsh, but he sounded like he liked it.

"I am so sorry," the girl said. "So, so, so sorry. I'm really sorry."

"Don't worry about it," the boy said. "You don't have to apologize, so stop."

"What are they saying?" Else asked. "That's Japanese, right?"

Gilbert nodded. "They're just teenage sweethearts," he said. "I wonder what they're doing here."

"Let's go ask them," Else said, grabbing Gilbert's hand and pulling him out of the water.

"Hi," Gilbert said in Japanese. "Need anything?"

"No," the boy replied.

"Actually, we came here for the day, and now we're a bit lost," the girl said.

Gilbert relayed the girl's message to Else. "We should help them," she said. "Tell them we'll help them."

"She says we'll help you."

"Oh, thank you!" the girl cried. "That's so nice. Isn't that nice, Kyo?"

"I guess," the boy muttered. "But I'm not really in a hurry to get back to that rat bastard."

"You remind me of my friend," Gilbert said to the boy. He was, of course, referring to Romano. "Anyway, where did you come from?"

The girl pointed to the other side of the lake. "Somewhere over there, I think."

The four of them walked around the lake, and then wandered the woods for a while. The boy and the girl were from Japan. They were fresh out of high school, and were in love. The boy's cousins were waiting back at their hotel in Berlin, but the boy and the girl had come to the woods to get away and be by themselves. Also, apparently the boy liked to climb trees.

Finally, they found the rental car the boy and the girl had come in. "I hope it works out for you both," Gilbert said.

"You too, Sir," the girl said.

"Yeah. Bye," muttered the boy.

As the kids got in the car and drove away, Gilbert turned to Else and said, "They were nice."

"Well, I don't know if they were or not," she said, "but the boy looked really angry."

"He comes off that way," Gilbert agreed, "but I think he's just a big softie."

"You're the one that speaks Japanese," Else said doubtfully. "Come on, let's go back. We're still not wearing clothes."

Gilbert chuckled.

"What?"

"Nothing," the Prussian said. "I just think those Japanese kids were kind of horrified." He shook his head. "The Japanese. So conservative, though their anime wouldn't exactly suggest that."

"What are you talking about?"

Gilbert simply shrugged and smiled.

When the pair got back to the beach, they found the guy that Deutsches News sent frantically counting the people present. "Gilbert! Else!" he cried when he saw them. "What was that? Where did you go?"

"It was a trust-building exercise," Gilbert remarked dryly. "You're into that, aren't you?"

The guy that Deutsches News sent's eyes bugged out a little. "It's already dark. You could've gotten lost."

Gilbert smirked. "I have an excellent sense of direction." Actually, it was just his land, and he knew instinctively where to go.

"Well…" the guy that Deutsches News sent seemed at a loss for what to say. Finally, he said, "It's dinnertime. Change into your clothes."

Dinner was wurst roasted over a weak fire. "We should have s'mores," Gilbert suggested. "Please tell me you brought stuff to make s'mores."

"Uh…what are s'mores?"

Gilbert groaned at the guy that Deutsches News sent. "Only the second–no, third best food in the galaxy."

"So what are the first two?" Else teased. "Beer and Peeps?"

"Oh, yeah," Gilbert corrected. "S'mores are the fourth best food in the galaxy, after beer, my Canadian friend's pancakes, and Peeps."

"Beer isn't a food," huffed Kartoffel.

"Oh, well, then, it's back to number three," Gilbert said amicably.

"Yes, this is all fine and good, but _what are they_?" The guy that Deutsches News sent was ready to pull his hair out. This group wasn't like any other he had ever been forced to work with. The albino and the girl journalist had some sort of sexual tension, the albino and the fat guy hated each other, and the other journalist and the staff were no help. They were probably used to it.

Gilbert was going on about marshmallows, but the guy that Deutsches News sent used this as an opportunity to get himself in order. Good thing they were going back first thing the next morning. He couldn't handle this group much longer. In fact, all groups were awful. The guy that Deutsches News sent was seriously considering resignation.

"They're awesome!" Gilbert finished. To be honest, the guy that Deutsches news sent had no idea what made this guy so compelling. He looked like a demon, with his red eyes, his voice was annoying, and he couldn't keep his mouth shut. Also, from what the guy that Deutsches News sent had gathered, he wasn't exactly a pleasant person to be around. The guy that Deutsches News sent figured he ought to start watching his show. Maybe the albino acted differently on air. Almost everyone did.

Gilbert's phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and looked at it. "I get surprisingly good signal here," he said. "Excuse me." The Prussian walked a distance away from the group.

"West? What is it?"

_"Guess what England did."_

"Oh no. What?"

_"He got drunk and ran around the entirety of London shouting, 'I am England! I am your country, bow to me!'"_

"_Mein Gott_." Prussia dropped his head against a tree. "He didn't."

_"He did. Most people thought he was just a crazy drunkard, but I checked the Website and the list of evidence has already been updated."_

Prussia raised his head from the tree and then dropped it again quickly. He repeated the process another two times. "England…and on the very same day we told people not to do something like that."

"_What a dumkopf,"_ Germany agreed.

Prussia sighed. "Thanks for telling me, _Bruder. _I'll talk to you later." He hung up. God. For diabolical geniuses, the countries were pretty damn stupid.

"Gilbert?"

Gilbert spun around. "Else. Hey."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he reassured her. "Just one of my friends got in some legal trouble. It's minor. Everything is fine."

"That's good to hear." Else chewed her lip. "Do you want to come back to the fire now?"

"Okay," he said, giving her his best fake smile. It was okay, he told himself. This really was minor. England really was just a crazy drunkard. It was hardly _evidence_.

Dammit, he was worried.

**A/N: Hey! Yes, I did just write this chapter so Prussia could take his shirt off. Actually, that could be true. This chapter doesn't really have to be here. I don't even know why I wrote it. Whatever. Props if you know where the two teenagers were from, but no virtual cookies. Sorry. IT's okay if you don't know who they are, though; they won't be coming back.**

**So much Else in this one. Ugh. Is it bad that I hate my own OC? I didn't start out hating her. What happened? I think my favorite OC is Gerhard. No, wait. It's Daniel, but you guys haven't met him yet. **

**Awkward Ending Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. **


	5. Dreams

_I was awesome today. I slept all day. You say, "Prussia, how is it that just sleeping is awesome?" Well it's not "just sleeping." It is me sleeping that makes it so awesome!_

Gilbert slept almost the entire bus ride back to Berlin. Every so often he would shift and mumble something.

"What's that, Sweetie?" Else asked, even though she knew perfectly well he wouldn't answer.

"It's okay,_ Liebchen_. I'm here," she heard him mumble. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be there for you, _Deutschland_."

Else shook her head and chuckled. What a weird guy.

Gilbert was dreaming.

Prussia walked around slowly, surveying the land. The Holy Roman Empire had been dissolved, and now there was the question of what to do with the land.

He, for one, wanted the land so badly he could taste it. It tasted like wurst. And beer. Delicious.

When he came upon a little boy facedown in the dirt, Prussia was understandably alarmed. He rushed to the boy's side and, rolling him over, found that it was the Holy Roman Empire.

The poor kid was unconscious, and _of course _Prussia couldn't just leave him there, so he picked the little boy up, and carried him to Prussia's house.

"Where am I?"

Prussia looked up from his spot at the side of the Holy Roman Empire's bed. "Welcome back, kiddo."

"What…"

"What's the matter? You're safe now."

"What's my name?"

The question took the Prussia by surprise. "You don't remember. Anything?"

The Holy Roman Empire shook his head. "Nothing, though I feel like the memories are right there. I just can't get them…"

"So you don't remember anything?"

The Holy Roman Empire looked around, confused. "Do you have a broom?"

"A broom? Why?"

"I don't know. Who am I?"

Prussia felt a rush of sympathy for the boy. He looked so lost…he was lost. Everyone had heard the tragic love story of the Holy Roman Empire and Italy Veneziano. The child wasn't ready to hear that he had a love he didn't remember. And it would be too hard for anyone to know he loved someone who didn't love him back.

Prussia made a spontaneous decision. "Your name is Germany. I am the Teutonic Knights, your older brother."

"Hello Big Brother," the Holy Roman Empire, no, Germany, said, never once doubting the albino's story.

Gilbert's heart broke.

"Hey, Prussia!"

Prussia turned vaguely toward the grating voice of the freeloading pianist calling his name. "Yes, Austria?"

Austria said, "I want Germany, and I'm ready to fight you."

Prussia grinned to himself. If, by any chance, Prussia conceded Germany to Austria, which he wouldn't, Austria would be in deep trouble. No Italy was Germany. Prussia was exhausted from all of Germany's, "You should be eating better"s and "You know, I love to clean, but if you want me so badly, why is it that I'm doing the work? Shouldn't you be the one working for me? Shouldn't I decide who I want to live with based on who cleans better?"s.

Germany toddled into the room. "Hello, Prussia, Austria."

"Hello, Germany," Austria greeted politely.

"Hi Germany," Prussia said, and the addressed nation startled. He was used to Prussia acknowledging him with a "Hey, get me another beer."

But then the little blond glanced around, and saw the tension in Prussia and Austia's statures, and understood. They were fighting over him.

On the one hand, Prussia was utterly insane. Being his brother would be difficult. On the other, Austria looked like the type of guy who would make you wear your underwear six times before he would let you wash them.

"Um," Germany spoke up, interrupting the staring contest between Austria and Prussia, "can I choose who I want to be my big brother?"

Austria turned away from Prussia and grinned, confident of his victory in this respect.

"Well, I'd much rather go to war, but I suppose it's all right." Prussia acted like he was just as assured as Austria that Germany would choose him, but Germany could tell he was nervous. Probably should have treated Germany better.

"I don't know why anyone would want to live with you, you pig," Austria said, but then Germany shouted, "I choose Prussia!"

Austria's jaw dropped. Prussia stopped shifting uneasily and gave a radiant smile, rushing over and picking Germany up.

"That's right, cutie-pie," he cooed. "You are so cute. And awesome. You hate Austria, right. You hate that big bad Austria?"

"Don't make me regret my decision," Germany muttered.

Couldn't be making Austria too confident, right? That was Germany's reasoning. It certainly wasn't because he liked Prussia's company.

"Big Brother?"

Prussia rolled over to face the doorway. "What's wrong, Germany? Is it the memories again?"

"I'm scared of them, Big Brother. I'm scared to remember."

Prussia got out of bed and knelt before Germany. "Which this time, _Kleine Maus_? The broomstick again?"

At night, after a nightmare, was the only time Germany dropped his stoic exterior and let anyone see vulnerability. Prussia was proud that he was the only one.

Germany, at first, had not understood why Prussia, his older brother, did not know what had happened to him before, but he seemed to take the albino's weak-ass explanation that they had only just met. "Yes, _Bruder_. And something about leaving. Are you leaving?"

Prussia stroked Germany's hair. So pretty, so soft. So normal. "Of course not, _Liebschien_. I may go away sometimes, but I promise, I will always be there for you if you need me. In that respect, I will never leave."

The little boy whimpered. "You promise?"

"Is your room clean?" Prussia asked rhetorically, flicking Germany's ear lightly. The latter giggled as only a child can. "I more than promise. It's okay, _Liebchen_, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be there for you, _Deutschland_."

Germany's smile fled his face. "Good," he said seriously. "Now go to sleep. We have things to do tomorrow."

"Yes we do," Prussia agreed, hugging Germany around the waist.

In the corner of the room, Gilbert cried as Germany walked off down the hallway.

That's when the dream got weird. He and all the other countries stood at the edge of a cliff. Gilbert's boss stood behind them.

"You despicable country," he snarled, sounding quite unlike the kind man Gilbert knew. He was speaking to America. "You think you're the hero, do you?" When he said "hero," Gilbert could hear the scorn. He was sure America could, too. "Well, let me tell you something, America. You're no hero. You're just an insecure jackass." A push, and America was over the edge.

"And you!" Spain now. "Your people are going through a recession. Don't be so happy all the time." He turned to Greece. "That goes for you too. How can you sleep? Mask and Lazybones." Two more lost to endlessness.

Gilbert's boss made his way through all the countries, calmly exploiting their weaknesses, until finally, only Gilbert and Germany were left.

Gilbert expected his boss to say something about Germany and push him over the edge, but instead his boss just said, almost sadly. "Don't make promises you can't keep, _Preußen_."

And then Gilbert himself was thrown off the land, staring up at Germany, who looked forward, expressionlessly, as his boss whispered into the blonde's ear.

Gilbert woke up. It wasn't fast, and he wasn't drenched in cold sweat or anything. He just blinked awake, mildly anxious, to find Else sitting next to him as they drove through some part of Berlin.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty!" Else cajoled. "You were saying some pretty weird stuff in your sleep."

Gilbert swallowed. "What kind of weird stuff?"

"Oh, I don't know. You said, 'Germany,' a lot though.

"Germany? That's weird." Even to him his words sounded weak. He didn't have the energy to keep up pretenses.

Else looked truly worried now. "Gilbert? Are you okay?"

"I just…Do I have to work tonight?"

"Yes," said Else. "_AGB_ is on tonight, remember?"

Gilbert struggled to sit up straight. "Oh yeah. I think-I think I'll miss tonight. Is that okay? I'm coming down with something."

News anchors don't call in sick. They come in whether or not they had a 102 degree fever. It was clear that Gilbert didn't have even that. But he couldn't deal with a headache right now.

Else chewed her lip. Gilbert saw in her eyes that she was worried about him, but he didn't try to reassure her. He was pretty sure she had feelings for him, but it just made him uncomfortable. _Maybe if I don't reciprocate she'll just go away,_ he had thought. But now was the time to exploit her attraction.

"Okay," Else said finally. "I'll tell the producer. Feel better, _ja_?"

Gilbert only felt a little guilty.

Gilbert got home as fast as he could and dropped down on his couch, not even bothering to take off his shoes or change his wrinkled, dirty clothes. He scrabbled for the phone.

"Prussia? What's wrong?" His brother sounded anxious. "Did you reveal something?"

"_Nein_," Gilbert responded. "I just–never mind. How have you been sleeping?"

Germany paused. "What's going on, Prussia?"

"_Ich liebe dich, Mauschen_," Gilbert said quickly, and hung up before Germany could respond. It felt strange now to call the nation by that pet name. The blonde was taller, wider, and more resigned than the older nation now. He was certainly not little, nor was he a mouse.

The phone rang, still in Gilbert's hand.

"Hi West."

"Prussia? Are you okay? What was that about?"

"Nothing. Nothing." The older brother was supposed to take care of the nightmares, not the younger one. Gilbert couldn't tell Germany.

"That's just a lie."

"Who says?" Gilbert cried defensively. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do, _Bruder. _So why don't you stay away from stuff you don't understand!" Germany was silent. Gilbert suddenly felt an overwhelming panic at the thought of losing his brother right after he had snapped at him. "_Tut mir leid. Das war wirklich schlecht_."

"It's alright, Prussia. I am sometimes scared too."

Tears sprung to Gilbert's eyes. Here was his stoic little brother, admitting fear to make his older brother feel better. It was simultaneously touching and belittling. "Who said I was scared?" Gilbert said gruffly, and then, more teasingly, "It's okay if _you_ are, though."

"Good-bye, _Bruder_," Germany said, his tone almost amused.

"Bye West."

**A/N: To be honest with you, I don't really like this chapter. And it is, obviously, incredibly historically inaccurate. If I got anything right, it wasn't on purpose.**

**I know a lot of people on FanFiction like "liebling" but I'm partial to "liebchen" since it's what my mom called me.**


	6. There You Are, Canada!

**You guys. You guys! Earlier today, I called up Himaruya and I was all like, "Hey Himapapa, my underling, what're we doing today?" and he said something back but it was in Japanese and I didn't understand it, so I said, "Dude, if I'm going to own Hetalia, the first order of business is going to be teaching you English, because I'm just not feeling that this is a successful conversation. He hung up on me then. And then, guess what! The cops came and were all like, "Miss, step out of your house. Slowly" and I was like, "Guys, what's the matter? I haven't done anything today except call that Japanese guy who works for me..." and then I remembered that I wrote fanfiction. Seriously, it was this whole big thing. I almost didn't have the time to post this at a reasonable hour because I had to apologize a lot. Anyway, you guys excited for Canada? Here he is!**

_Something really awesome happened today._

_ After much tension and good pancakes, Canada and I finally kissed! I've been waiting forever, but he's such a prude. My little Birdie…_

"_Und jetzt, auf Andre mit dem Wetterbericht_!"

Gilbert stood behind cameras for once. It was six thirty-six in the morning, much too early.

Why was Gilbert at Deutsches News so early, you ask? Well the morning reporter, Karoline, had been hit by a truck and was in a coma, sadly, but Else had been offered a job as an anchor for the six o'clock news until they found someone to do it full-time. It was her first day, so Gilbert had come for luck. He may not be interested in her like that, but she was still his friend.

Also, he had learned the power of a sex drive when she allowed him to temporarily relinquish his show to Gerhard the other day.

The door creaked open. Prussia turned toward it. Almost all countries were always on alert because of their many years of war. That kind of thing didn't wear off like that.

A single blond curl popped into view. Longish wavy hair. Wire rimmed glasses. Violet eyes.

Gilbert's heart raced with happiness, excitement, and worry. Canada was here, but Gilbert couldn't allow Else to see him. Else wasn't stupid, and she'd witnessed too many examples of his existence as a country already. She may not even be thinking along those lines right now, but if the information about the countries came to light and Else recognized Canada? That would be disastrous.

Gilbert came forward to meet Canada, and pushed the nation back outside.

"Mattie!"

"Gil? What are you doing?"

"Let's talk out here," Gilbert suggested, explaining the situation to Canada. "How did you know where I was. And why haven't you gone home already?"

"I wanted to talk," Canada said. "I barely saw you at the World Meeting, so I stuck around. Germany told me where you were." Canada suddenly frowned. "You're not upset that I'm here, are you?"

Gilbert grinned. "Of course I'm not upset, Mattie! It's awesome!"

The Canadian looked relieved. "Oh, good."

"Should we go back to my place?" Gilbert took out his phone and texted, _Going home to sleep. This was the stupidest idea since Pocahontas_ to Else. He felt bad, but it was true; he hadn't seen Canada for a while. After a moment, he sent another text, this one saying, _Don't come over after your broadcast. I won't actually be sleeping. I ditched you for sex. _

They went back to Gilbert's apartment. "So why were you up and at work so early?"

"You know Else, the girl I told you about?"

"Yeah…?"

"Well she's taking over for the person who does the six o'clock news. And you? It's like midnight in Ottowa."

"Well I've been here for a few days, and besides, I got a lot of rest yesterday and the day before." Canada breathed heavily in an effort to slow his breathing. He felt sick. His fingers trembled.

"Hey what's the matter, Birdie?" asked Gilbert, obtuse to Canada's feelings. Surprising, considering Gilbert was usually the one who could understand Canada best.

_It's that girl. _Canada put on a smile.

Gilbert smiled back, assured that his Birdie was okay, and continued, "Mattie Bird, I brought you here with every intention of screwing you on the couch, but I am just…exhausted. Do you mind if I went to bed?"

"No," Canada replied.

"Feel free to join me," Gilbert added, heading toward his bedroom.

"Yeah, I will. In a minute."

When Gilbert had disappeared from sight, Canada picked up the phone that Gilbert had left on the coffee table.

He scrolled through the contacts. To Else Müller he wrote:

_You're a bitch. I hate you._

If there was one thing Canada could claim, it was awareness of his emotions. He knew that he was jealous of how Gilbert spoke of Else. It was hard sometimes, when your boyfriend had the potential to like _everyone_, instead of just half the people in the world.

But even so, jealousy had to be entertained sometimes, and although Canada knew this would get him in trouble with Gilbert, he felt better. He felt guilty at the same time, but also better.

A few hours later, when Gilbert woke up, he found his Birdie asleep next to him. Whatever the Canadian said, the closest time he could be in was six hours earlier.

Smiling softly, Gilbert made his way to the kitchen. He cut himself a piece of _zuckerkuchen_, poured himself a glass of beer, and dipped the cake in the beer as he made his way to the couch. Mmm. Why hadn't he ever tried this before? It was amazing.

His sugar-and-beer induced euphoria wore off, however, when, idly picking up his phone, saw that he had sixty-three texts, 28 missed calls, and 23 voice mail messages from Else. And one voice mail from his brother.

The texts and the messages from Else were basically the same: why do you hate me? Did I do something wrong?

Germany's message was telling him that Canada was coming to see him…half an hour after they'd met. So that was pointless.

Gilbert called Else back. "Gilbert?" she sniffled.

"What's the matter? Have you been crying?"

Else gave the kind of wail Gilbert had last heard from that guy on that Japanese anime. The one that was definitely a girl, even though apparently he was a boy. "How can you not remember what you said?"

"What, that I was going home?" When Else wailed again, Gilbert hung up on her and scrolled through his texts. To his surprise, he found one that said, "You're a bitch. I hate you."

"MATTHEW!" Gilbert shouted.

"Crap," Canada mumbled as he stumbled, bleary-eyed, out of Gilbert's bedroom.

He looked so cute when he was tired–but no, Gilbert was angry at Canada. "Why did you send this to Else?"

Canada cast his eyes downward. _So_ cute. "I-I'm sorry, Gil. But you talk about her a lot, and you see her all the time, and I live on the other side of the world! What-what if you forget about me and get with Else?"

"Matthew," Gilbert said. He was proud of how he'd said the Canadian's name. He had conveyed both sadness and anger in the one word, he thought, and it was awesome. "Listen to me, Matthew. How long have we been dating?"

"Almost a hundred years," Canada whispered.

"Right," Gilbert confirmed. "Almost a hundred years. And that entire time, I have never ever forgotten about you or cheated on you, right?"

It was Canada's turn to say, "Right."

"The only thing that could make me want to break up with you is if you become a jackass. I like you because you _aren't_ a jackass, Matthew. And this was jackassy, Canada." Gilbert stepped forward so he was almost touching Canada, beer and cake forgotten. "Jealousy is a normal, human emotion, Matthew. Talk to me about it. You can always talk to me."

"I know," Canada whispered.

"Good. Now, I would ask you to apologize to Else personally over the phone, but I told her you don't speak German, and she doesn't speak English. So I will do it. In person."

Gilbert acted businesslike and aloof, but when he passed Canada to get to the door, Canada felt Gilbert's fingers brush his, and he was certain it was on purpose.

**How did you like jealous!Canada? Don't worry; he won't be back (probably). Gilbert pulled a mature one there at the end, huh? Cute.**


	7. Else at Nina's

_I AM awesome, aren't I?_

_ Annemarie died today. She was old, eighty-four. We'd lost contact since she was young. I wonder. If she knew what I was, would she have been afraid? Awed? Would our relationship have changed? It's a risk I couldn't take. So Annemarie died without knowing just who she had been friends with all those years ago._

On the way out of his apartment building, Gilbert called Else. Unfortunately, she didn't pick up.

"_Scheiße_," Gilbert hissed. A woman covered her young daughter's ears, glaring at Gilbert.

"_Entschuldigung,_" Gilbert muttered quickly.

"Mama, what's the matter? What does _scheiße_ mean?"

"It's a bad word, _Süße_. Don't say it."

"Why did he say it, then?"

The mother glared at Gilbert again, who was once again calling Else. Receiving no answer, he groaned.

"Do you know Else Müller?" he asked.

"Why would we know her?" the mother said sourly. "There is a tiny, tiny chance we would know her."

"Well, there's a chance," Gilbert muttered, half to himself.

"Else Müller?" A woman walking into the building stopped and looked at him. "I know someone by that name. We went to college together. Hey, aren't you Gilbert Beilschmidt?"

"I am," he said.

"Well, why do you need to know where Else is? Doesn't she work with you?"

There are three and a half million people living in Berlin. That's not counting the tourists. And yet, somehow, Gilbert had run into the exact person he needed.

"How close are you?" he asked.

She shrugged. "We were friends in college, but we run in different circles now. Why?"

"Do you think she would pick up if you called her?"

The woman looked suspicious. "Yeah. Why do you want to know?"

"Call her," Gilbert begged. "Please."

"What are you going to do?" the woman asked. "I don't know you. If she's not picking up your calls, why should I call her for you?"

"I just need to apologize to her for something," Gilbert said. "Please. Just call her and ask her where she is."

Still staring at Gilbert, the woman took out her cell phone and called Else. They spoke for a moment, and then the woman hung up and said, "She's at Nina's."

"Nina's? The bar?"

The woman shrugged again. "She just said Nina's. I don't know."

Calling a 'thank you' over his shoulder, Gilbert rushed out of the building.

Nina's was a nice bar. It had decent food, and the crappiest beer. The bartenders would listen to you for all hours. Gilbert didn't know if they cared about what you said, but in the end, it didn't matter. Best of all, the staff at Nina's were extremely protective of their regulars. And Gilbert was a regular.

Gilbert walked in. The bartender, Daniel, opened his mouth, presumably to shout, "Hey Gilbert!" but closed it when Gilbert shook his head at him.

Gilbert slid onto the stool next to Else's. Daniel slid him a glass full to the brim of amber liquid, and Gilbert chugged it with the ferocity of Italy eating pasta.

"What do you want?" Else mumbled.

"I just wanted to tell you what a coincidence it is that you chose this bar," Gilbert said, "because I love this bar."

"I know," Else said. "I was hoping me coming here would ruin it for you."

"Good try," Gilbert said, "but I've been coming here too long to abandon this place now."

Daniel looked up knowingly. Daniel had been practically living here since he was very young, since his father was the first owner of the bar, so he'd seen Gilbert not age for years. Eventually Gilbert told him he was a vampire and let him think what he wanted.

About that. Due to a conspiracy theory coming to light recently, he'd have to have a discussion with Daniel about that. Prussia was certain that he could trust Daniel not to talk, but he still felt like Daniel deserved the truth after so many years.

"What are you drinking?" Gilbert asked.

"Vodka," Else answered hoarsely.

"Vodka? Disgusting Russian stuff."

"What do you want, Gilbert?"

"I didn't send you that text, Else. I'm sorry for leaving your broadcast, but my Canadian friend showed up and I went home with him. He's a little jealous of you, so he sent the text."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because it's the truth."

"Yeah, okay."

Gilbert sighed for a long time. "Else, I know you like me as…more than a friend. But I don't feel that way about you, and I will never feel that way about you. I'm sorry." Gilbert stood and walked out of the bar.

There went Gilbert's chance to use her infatuation with him to his advantage.

At four in the afternoon, Gilbert went back to the bar. Daniel gave him his beer, and he sat in silence. The bar was vacant other than Daniel, Gilbert, and a young couple sitting at a table in the corner.

"What was that about, before?"

Gilbert shook his head. "Daniel, I have to tell you something."

Daniel didn't respond. Bartenders were trained to just let the drinker talk, not push them to talking.

"I'm not even _slightly_ buzzed yet, Daniel, and I'm not going to get drunk at all right now, or that'll just make my light-headache worse later. You can say something."

"What do you want to tell me?"

Gilbert dropped his voice to a whisper. "I'm not really a vampire."

Daniel rolled his eyes, "Noo."

"Aren't you even mildly curious as to how I don't age?"

"Yes," Daniel admitted.

"But you haven't…told anyone?"

"I figured immortality was something I shouldn't talk about."

Gilbert finished his drink. Daniel refilled the glass.

Despite what he'd said, before long Gilbert was plastered. It was a sad day when Gilbert got drunk off of a couple pints of beer. Before long, he started spilling his guts to Daniel.

"You really really can't tell anyone what I'm gonna tell you," he slurred. "I always got beat up by Hungary…it's not fair! I'm awesomer than Hungary, and especially that Austria. Why does she like him so much?" Gilbert paused as if waiting for an answer from Daniel. Receiving none, he continued, "I was dissolved in 1947, but I lost political power years before that. I don't understand! I'm so awesome; how come no one ever listens to me? M-my little brother…he's very strong. He's very strong. I'm super duper proud but…" His voice trailed off. "I'm super duper proud, but I was made to fight wars, not to listen to the country I raised, yanno?"

"Mm-hmm," Daniel said, wiping the bar with a rag, something bartenders seemed to do often.

"Anyway, anyway, what I was gonna tell you is that I'm not a vampire. I'm a country, yanno? I am the Teutonic Knights, East Germany, and the Kingdom of Prussia!"

He didn't slur the last line. Daniel looked at his longtime friend. Gilbert's hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, he had a crooked grin on his face, and his eyes were slightly unfocused, but Daniel had never seen Gilbert more glorious. The bartender realized that for the first time in his life, he was seeing the real Gilbert.

Daniel didn't know it, but the way Gilbert looked then was also how he looked on the battlefield.

Gilbert woke up behind the bar, Daniel's boots digging painfully into his side. The sound of talking and laughing could be heard.

He stood, stumbling a bit, head spinning. The people sitting at the bar looked confused at the sight of a guy coming up from underneath the bar, but just laughed it off and went back to what they were doing.

"What time is it," Gilbert mumbled, words mushing together with exhaustion.

"Six forty-five," Daniel answered promptly. "It's good that you're awake. I was just about to wake you up, actually. I figured it was about time for you to go to work."

"I'm kinda late, actually," Gilbert said. "Thanks. Wish me luck."

"Thought you were too awesome to need luck," Daniel teased.

"I usually am, but my day has been crap so far, so I figure I could use some extra."

"Well, good luck, then."

Gilbert's face suddenly flushed. His head spun, and his vision grew dark. He leaned against the bar to steady himself. Whispering, he said, "You…won't tell anything what I told you last night, will you?"

"Of course not, Gilbert," Daniel assured the albino. "Now get going. We put _AGB_ on the television every night, and the customers would be irate if they lost their drinking game because you decided to be a lightweight."

**And you guys finally get to meet Daniel! I love that guy. Next chapter is all about his relationship with Gilbert, but it's not super important so if you don't like Daniel or OCs you can skip it. Happy Mothers' Day, everybody.**

**Also, I just want to say a big thank you to everyone who's reviewed and favorited and followed. You're all the best. You would be even best-er if you reviewed for this chapter.**

**Oh, and this is the last chapter with a lot of Else for a while. Yay! She'll be coming back, probably, but for the next several chapters she'll just have cameo appearances, if she's there at all.**


	8. Daniel and Gilbert

_I was awesome today._

_I woke up in a strange household this morning. I didn't, and still don't, remember anything from last night, but I bet I was awesome._

_ Turns out I was at the home of the man who owns the bar I got drunk at last night. They are very nice, but the state of the kitchen was…atrocious._

_ While I was cleaning, the wife of the owner and the namesake of the bar walked in. She shrieked and went to bitch to her husband. Oh, wives. I'm so glad I'm not married. _

_ Eventually, though, when I was finished with the kitchen, she saw it and hugged me and screeched things in my ear. I'm not sure, but I think it might have been praise? Not surprising. I'm so awesome._

Daniel had been five when his father bought the bar.

"There's so many people coming over from East Berlin, 'specially now that the wall's down," Daniel could remember his father saying. "It makes sense to invest in something everybody likes."

"Ridiculous pursuit," his mother would complain back, "running a bar. We'll all be fat drunkards before long, and your son's going to have a brain full of alcohol."

His father had laughed and said, "All the better for him, then!"

His mother would complain about the bar all the time. But she blushed when Daniel's father named it after her.

"Don't be stupid," she scolded her husband. "I'm not good enough for something to be named after me. Besides, I don't want to share the same name as a bar. Shameful. What will Frau Ahrens say? I'll be the woman with the drunkard husband."

But Daniel could tell she liked it.

Daniel was seven the first time Gilbert Beilschmidt walked into the bar. He was friendly at first, but then Daniel's Papa gave him the fifth tiny little glass, and he got a little crazy. Daniel didn't remember most of what went on, but before long the albino was passed out, drooling on the peanuts he'd strewn over the floor.

Daniel's father, ever the kind soul, carried the strange, drunk man upstairs to their family's private home. When Nina returned from her Ladies' Convention the next morning, she found an extremely pale, shirtless man obsessively cleaning her kitchen.

She'd flicked her husband on the ear. "Wilhelm! I told you that bar would bring nothing good! And I sure hope you didn't let Daniel stay awake down there all night, stupid husband!"

He had, but her irritation disappeared once she saw her sparkling kitchen. She called Gilbert, "a lovely German gentleman," and from then on, he was a routine fixture in the family's life.

Once, when Nina had gone to another one of her Ladies' Conventions and the bar was busy, Wilhelm, fearing the wrath of his returning wife, left little Daniel with Gilbert upstairs until last call.

Gilbert had pledged not to drink, threatened with exile from the bar. It was yet to be determined whether he would uphold his pledge.

"So, kid, what should we do?"

Daniel sighed. This guy had clearly never babysat before. Okay, then. He would have to teach him. "Step one of watching a kid: if it's dinnertime, feed him."

So Gilbert made them schnitzel. He was about to pour a glass of beer for himself (at least he knew not to give one to Daniel), until the child in question said, "Step two: no drinking."

Gilbert gaped at his charge. "You live above a _bar_."

"Still," said Daniel. "Babysitters don't drink at their babysittee's house."

"Well, I've already opened the bottle. I don't want to waste your dad's beer."

"Fine then," Daniel conceded. "Let's split it, so you're less drunk."

This apparently seemed logical to Gilbert, so he split the bottle evenly and gave one glass to Daniel. They had a contest to see who could chug it faster. Gilbert won.

"Step three," Daniel said. "The babysitter must always let the babysittee win."

"That's stupid," Gilbert argued. "Then the kid is just going to become a little brat. Let me tell you, kid, no one ever took it easy on me when I was young."

"Tough," said Daniel.

"So what's next?" asked Gilbert finally, breaking a tense silence.

"Step four," Daniel answered, happy to move on from that particular conversation. "We play a game."

"Ooh, let's play poker," Gilbert suggested.

"Step five: the babysitter lets the babysittee choose the game."

Gilbert pouted, but conceded anyway.

"I choose we play Candyland," Daniel said.

"That's a girl game," Gilbert teased. "You don't want to be a little girl-boy, do you?"

Daniel wailed, long, loud, and high-pitched.

"Okay, okay!" Gilbert shouted. "We can play Candyland!"

Daniel didn't stop screaming.

"What's the matter?" Gilbert asked, face pink with panic. "I said we could play the game you wanted to play."

Daniel finally quieted and replied. "I'm not screaming because you didn't want to play Candyland. I'm screaming because you were mean. Step six is that the babysitter can't be mean to or yell at the babysittee. Step seven is that if the babysitter is mean, he has to give the babysittee extra dessert."

"All right," Gilbert agreed, and gave Daniel some chocolate. "What's step eight?"

"Shut up," said Daniel. "You're not ready for that yet. First we need to play a game."

"Okay then," Gilbert said, sounding a little frustrated. "Go get Candyland."

"I'm not playing Candyland," Daniel snarled, causing a confused Gilbert to rear back. "You said that I would be a little girl-boy if I did. Young children are subject to obsessive seeking of approval from those they admire. Teach me to play poker."

Gilbert taught Daniel to play poker, and enthusiastically agreed when the latter suggested they gamble.

"Remember step three," Daniel warned, so Gilbert was forced to lose on purpose. When the albino finally refused to play anymore, Daniel countered with, "You're being mean to me!" At the end, Daniel won one hundred twenty Deutsche Marks from a distraught and stressed Gilbert (who, by the way, was still not financially independent and lived in his brother's basement).

"Step eight," Daniel said. Gilbert sighed in relief. "The babysitter has to give the babysittee a bath."

"What?" Gilbert asked. "I'm not doing that."

"And what if I tried to bathe myself and drowned in the bathtub, huh? What then? No, you have to do it until I'm at least," the boy thought for a moment, "eight."

"Holy Friedrich," Gilbert said.

In the bath, Daniel messed around with the toys and refused to wash his hair. Eventually Gilbert did it, and stuck the boy's hair in funny positions with the shampoo. He was so cute. Gilbert hoped that didn't make him sound like a pedophile, considering Daniel was naked and all.

Daniel himself zoned with his rubber duck, ignoring Gilbert when he would spontaneously shout things like, "You look like my friend Mathias! All you need now is an axe!" or, "_Mein Gott_, you look like my brother with that hair. I must fix it immediately," or, "Hey, Alfred, how's Nantucket holding up?"

In fact, Gilbert was so enthralled in playing with Daniel's hair that his bedtime came and went. When he finally realized what time it was, Gilbert threw himself in a frenzy trying to get Daniel ready for bed as fast as possible that Daniel had no time to shout out manipulative rules.

"There," Gilbert sighed. "You're in bed. Now, do I just leave?"

"Absolutely not," Daniel muttered petulantly, still irritated by the violent rubdown with a towel he had received earlier. "You have to tell me a story."

"A story? That I made up? Can't I just read something to you?"

"Step five," Daniel reminded his complaining babysitter.

Gilbert frowned. "I thought that one was that you get to choose the game? This isn't a game."

Daniel smiled his sweetest smile and replied, "My dear Gilbert, this whole night was a game."

Suddenly unnerved, Gilbert said quickly, "Okay. I'll tell you a story."

Daniel sat back to listen, feeling warm under the covers, and proud of his achievements that night. Gilbert would tell him a nice, lovely little story, and then Daniel would go to bed without complaining, as a sort of thank you to Gilbert for his gullibility.

"There once was an old man," Gilbert said, "who had gone blind and deaf many years earlier. He could not eat with the manners of civilized men. The old man lived with his son and daughter-in-law, and their young son, a little boy just like you.

"The husband and wife were quite disgusted with their father, so they made him eat away from the family table. One dinner, the old man dropped his bowl, breaking it into a thousand pieces. The husband, angry with his father for being so incompetent, made up for the nice, broken bowl with a cheap, wooden one, which the old man ate out of every night, for he was given no other bowl out of which to eat.

"The grandson sat and watched his grandfather with all the innocence and the cynicism of the young, and wondered, 'Why do Mutti and Vati tell me to share and be kind when they themselves do not share and be kind to Grandfather? Furthermore, why do they scold him so, when someday, if everyone grows old, they will be like him? I know; they are teaching me how to behave when they are old and live with my wife and me. Now that I know, I will begin preparations immediately.'

"One day, the husband and wife came home to find their son playing with some wood shavings under the table. 'What are you doing, Son?" asked the husband.

"'I am making a trough,' the young boy replied, 'for my Mutti and Vati when they are old and don't have manners.'

"The husband and wife, realizing their mistake, wept together. That night, the old man ate at the table with the rest of the family, and no one complained."

Daniel, all in all, thought the story was stupid. Who talked like that anyway? Except Gilbert, apparently, when he was in a storytelling reverie. Still, even though the boy did not mean to help his grandfather, they two were the pure characters in the story. If the boy was a boy just like Daniel, then Daniel should be pure, right?

Daniel didn't feel pure. He had cheated Gilbert throughout the night. To his shock, tears came rolling down his cheeks, catching in his blanket and hair.

Gilbert looked down and was surprised to see Daniel sobbing into his bed sheets. It had been a long time since Gilbert had had to deal with crying children, but he swallowed his urge to run away and said, "What's the matter, Daniel?"

"I've been lying to you," Daniel said. "I'm not allowed to have beer or gamble." He held Gilbert's crumpled bills out. "I'm sorry. You can tell my parents everything."

Gilbert took his money back silently, and left.

Daniel was unable to go to sleep, however. He lay in the dark, feeling miserable, until his father came home. Daniel listened to Gilbert and Wilhelm speak with dread, shaking all over from the anticipation of the scolding he would receive in the morning.

"How was Daniel?" Wilhelm asked.

Daniel tensed, squeezing his eyes shut. This was the moment.

"Oh, he was great," Gilbert said. Daniel's eyes snapped open. Wait…what? Gilbert continued. "We had schnitzel for dinner, and then we played cards and he had a bath. We got him to bed a little late, but he went with no problems."

"Really?" Wilhelm asked. "That's good. Thank you, Gilbert."

Daniel heard the sound of clinking coins, and then he pretended to be asleep when his father came to check on him. Somehow fake sleep became real sleep, and Daniel slept dreamlessly.

The next evening, once again hanging around at the bar, Daniel saw Gilbert come in. The second Wilhelm was out of earshot, Daniel hissed, "Why didn't you tell?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Call it my pride. I can't admit that I was screwed over by a little kid."

"Oh," said Daniel, a little confused.

"Let's never speak of last night ever again, agreed?" Gilbert said.

"Okay," Daniel said. They spit and shook, like men, and they never spoke of that night ever again.

As Daniel grew, so did the popularity of the bar. What had once been a quiet little place was now teeming from all edges by people wanting to get drunk. The daylight hours were quiet enough, but the nights were so overwhelming that Wilhelm was forced to hire another few bartenders.

Daniel, now a horny teenager, soon began to take notice of Christine, a busty blonde with more flirtatious tendencies that the male character in a badly written romance comedy screenplay. And it didn't take Gilbert long to notice the boy's feelings.

"Daniel," he said. "If you like her, go for her."

"She's older," Daniel argued. "She won't want to be anywhere near me, little virgin that I am."

"Then just sleep with her once," Gilbert suggested. "She won't know before hand that you're inexperienced, and after that she will quit from the shame of sleeping with her boss' son."

Daniel was doubtful. "Really?"

"Just listen to me, kid," Gilbert said. "I've been around longer than you have."

"Right, because you're a vampire. I forgot." Daniel rolled his eyes.

"Damn straight I am!" Gilbert cried. "Vampires are awesome!" (This was before _Twilight_, even though, though Gilbert would never admit it, he loved that series. Jasper was his favorite.)

In truth, Daniel didn't know what to make of Gilbert's explanation of why he didn't age. Daniel knew it was a secret, from the reluctance Gilbert had had to speak when Daniel had finally confronted him about it. Daniel respected secrets, so he didn't tell any of his friends that the albino didn't age. His mother may have, gossip that she was, but she had died before that sort of thing had become suspicious to the family.

"So?" Gilbert said. "Go talk to her!"

Daniel did, and lost his virginity that night. Gilbert had been right; the girl did quit the very next morning. Daniel felt bad about that, but he was too elated to care too much.

Wilhelm unexpectedly had to visit his dying father in the countryside, so Gilbert and Daniel watched the bar that night. They and the other regulars had a big party to celebrate Daniel's 'manhood.'

Daniel watched Gilbert's broadcast with a smile on his face. Even though Daniel was now physically older than Gilbert, their relationship was much the same as it had been when the opposite had been true, except that Daniel was a little less inclined to drink when he was bartending.

**A/N: Daniel is so awesome.**

**The story Prussia told Daniel is The Old Man and His Grandson by the Brothers Grimm. It's really short. I actually extended it a bit for this story.**

**Deutsche marks were the currency in Germany from 1948-2002.**

**So I'm a few chapters ahead of you guys, writing wise, and I just realized that Kumajiro hadn't shown up. So now I either need a really good reason why he's not there or another sub-plot. Great.**

**Just a warning: a few chapters in the future, Canada is going to go slightly insane. Prepare yourselves.**

**Next chapter has PruCan fluff, not to worry.**

**Let me know what you thought pretty please!**


	9. The Magic of Disney

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

_I am awesome, and so is my awesome Birdie._

_ I've been in Germany for a while now, spending time with my brother after so many years in Russia. But now I'm in Canada. We haven't spent time together for a while, so to ease the tension, we've just been watching a lot of awesome Disney movies._

Gilbert's broadcast had been…tense, to say the least. Not on air, though Gilbert was sure the audience could see that the usual casual feeling shared between Gilbert and Else was gone.

He returned home immediately after it was over, hoping Canada was already asleep so that he could avoid an awkward conversation. He hadn't been home since leaving to talk to Else at Nina's. It was early though, so Gilbert didn't hold much hope about sleeping Canadians.

And, lo and behold, Matthew Williams was awake, sitting on the couch. Gilbert wordlessly sat next to him and, understanding what Canada was doing, pressed play on the DVD remote.

The picture moved away from a shining castle, zooming back on a glimmering river at night, and a crescendo of sound announced the film studio.

Gilbert sat back, still at a careful distance from Canada, and waited to see which movie it would be. To his surprise, it was not one of the familiar ones but _Wreck It Ralph_, a movie he had been longing to see but was waiting for both he and Canada to have time to visit each other. He couldn't watch a Disney movie without Mattie. It just wasn't done.

As the story unfolded, Gilbert laughed, cried, and then laughed again, still with tear tracks on his cheeks, something he'd come to expect from Disney.

When it was over, Gilbert and Canada were significantly closer to each other. Meaning they were pressed up next to each other and their arms were all in a tangle.

"I liked it," Gilbert said. "Did you?"

"Yes," answered Canada softly. "You're kind of a Vanellope."

"What? I'm Vanellope? No way! You're such a Vanellope!"

Canada scooted away from Gilbert, crossing his arms over his chest. "In what world? She's annoying, petty, and an adrenaline junkie!"

"I guess she is pretty awesome," Gilbert admitted. "Okay, I'm Vanellope. You're Ralph."

"Ralph? That doesn't even make sense!"

"Well, there isn't a character like you, so if I'm Vanellope, it stands to reason that you'd be Ralph."

"Are you kidding? Vanellope and Ralph don't have sex!"

Gilbert waggled his eyebrows. "Are you sure about that, Ralphie?"

"Stop it. What's wrong with you?"

Gilbert sat back, suddenly serious. "Canada?"

"Yes?"

"Don't text mean stuff to Else anymore, 'kay? It-it isn't _you_."

"Okay, Gilbert."

"Okay." There was a moment of silence. "Bedtime?"

"Okay," Canada said again.

"Or…?" Gilbert said.

Canada smirked, a facial expression people weren't normally privy to. "You sure you're prepared for Ralph, _Vanellope von Schweets_?"

"So ready," Gilbert said.

The next morning, Canada was irked to find that Gilbert was already awake. It wasn't surprising; Canada was still a bit jetlagged, and Gilbert was a morning person. Then again, Gilbert was also a night owl, and an afternoon person…the guy didn't sleep that much.

"Why don't you take a shower?" Canada suggested.

Gilbert didn't even look up from the lager-laden _zuckerkuchen_ he was eating, since he'd missed out on his piece the day earlier. "I already took one."

"Take another!" Grabbing the albino's wrist, Canada pulled him up and dragged him in the direction of bathroom.

Gilbert, shocked, shoved the rest of his cake in his mouth and mumbled, "Jeez, Birdie, if it's that important to you I'll take another. Want to take one with me?"

"No!" Canada shouted, and, having succeeded in dragging Gilbert past the threshold, slammed the bathroom door.

Canada scrolled through the contacts on Gilbert's phone yet again, and found Else's number. He typed it into his phone.

"_This is Else. Leave a message."_ She sounded so sweet and normal. Canada felt somehow even worse for hurting her.

Canada purposely makes his speech choppy, since he's not supposed to know German. "Hello Else. I is Matthew, Gilbert's Canada friend. I sent you the message. It not Gilbert was. I is sorry." He hung up, satisfied with both his apology and his imitation Google Translate grammar.

Gilbert knocked on the inside of the bathroom door. "Hey Mattie? I understand that you were super excited about my shower and all, but do you think you could get me a towel? They're in the linen closet."

Gilbert and Matthew were in a Lidl, a supermarket chain that Canada had not previously known existed. German thing, probably.

"Why is everything pork?" asked Canada, picking up various packages of food unrecognizable as meat.

"It's the only meat Germans eat," Gilbert replied. "Now get that liverwurst over there."

"This?"

"No, _that _one."

"This one?"

"No–ach. I'll just get it myself." Gilbert reached across Canada to grab a cylinder shaped thing wrapped in gold paper. "This is liverwurst," he said, holding it out to Canada.

"I know what liverwurst is," Canada replied. "I'm just not sure how _that_ in any way resembles it."

"It says liverwurst. See? Right here on the side?"

Canada squinted at it. "It's in a funny font."

Gilbert scoffed. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever makes you happy."

Canada was about to make a retort, but then Gilbert's phone rang. Canada felt a shudder run through his body, thinking that he knew who was calling.

And sure enough. "It's Else, Matthew. I gotta take this." Gilbert picked up the phone.

"_Gilbert? It's Else._"

"I know. I have caller ID, like most people."

"_Are you going to take this seriously or not?_"

"Yes. Yes I am. I'm sorry. Hello, Else. Why are you calling?"

"_Your Canadian boyfriend, Matthew, called me_."

"He did?"

"_Yes, he did. His German is sucky, but he called me and had the grace to apologize nicely, unlike you._"

"Wait, so you're mad at me? Why are you mad at me?"

"_You're never straight with me, Gilbert. You could've just owned up, but you blamed it on poor Matthew._"

"Um…"

"_And furthermore, you could've told me how you felt the second you detected my feelings. Tell me why you didn't, and don't lie._"

"I was planning to milk it for all it was worth," Gilbert admitted.

"_That's why. That's why I'm mad at you. Kartoffel has it right. You are just a coward._"

Gilbert didn't know what to say, so he finished lamely, "Well, um, bye. See you later?"

Else made a sound like a person with tuberculosis might make if that person was laughing sadly. "_Yes. Bye, Gilbert_."

"You called Else." Gilbert said after he'd hung up.

"Yes," said Canada. "So what'd she say?"

"She's mad at me because I said that you were the one that texted her, not me." He shrugged. "Or at least that's what I got out of it."

Matthew's phone rang. "Oh, no," he said.

"What's wrong?"

"International calls cost a fortune." He picked up anyway and, while Canada was doing that, Gilbert received a call.

"Bruder_,_" Germany said. "_There was an article in many of the major newspapers around the world. Telling people that we, as countries, exist. The website is positively _gloating."

Prussia was too shocked for words. Discovering the website had put him on edge, but he had never _really_ expected to be found out.

"Do they have our pictures?" Prussia asked.

Germany sighed. "_I may have been a little melodramatic. They don't know who _we_ are_. _They just know of the existence of personified countries._"

That wasn't melodramatic, but Prussia had more pressing matters to think about than the line between dramatization and melodrama, so he didn't argue. He let out a shuddering sigh, looking over at Canada, only to see, from the blond man's facial expressions, that he was receiving the same news Prussia was. "Okay," he said, trying to keep a level head and not start screaming in the middle of a supermarket. "So what do we do about this?"

"_None of the other countries seem to want to leave their houses, so we're holding a highly government protected video chat session at twenty-one o'clock, Greenwich Mean Time._"

"So ten p.m. here," Prussia translated. "Okay. Canada and I will be there." He glanced at said country again. The poor guy looked like he was about to cry. Prussia wrapped an arm around him, trying for reassurance but not sure if it was achieving the desired affect.

Canada hung up on whomever he'd been talking to, so Prussia and Germany said their goodbyes and hung up too. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Canada mumbled, eyes downcast.

"It's okay," Gilbert said. "Everything is going to be fine."

"Okay," Canada replied, leaning into Gilbert and sighing.

**Hi everyone! So sorry about that screw up earlier. It's fixed now, so you're getting the chapter on time! Yay! Also, it would mean so much to me if you would go read the one-shot I just posted. It's called Alfred F. Jones' Misadventures in Europe. It's fairly self-explanatory, so.**


	10. Canada's dream

_I was particularly awesome today._

_ Annemarie was all like, "Hey Gilbert, how come you just referred to the country of Norway as 'he'?" And I was all like, "Um, I dunno. 'Cuz it's awesome, that's why." She bought it like it was new shoes._

_ I guess I feel a little bad for the deception. And maybe it would be nice if someone else knew. But we're forbidden to tell. That's the way it is. That's the way it has been for a long, long time._

Gilbert was a little hesitant to leave Canada alone, freaked out as he was. But Gilbert figured that he'd probably be doing a segment on this supposed "country" thing, so he wanted to go to work to see if he could steer the broadcast in a less potentially harmful way.

(He was also a little less than thrilled to have to see Else. Gilbert wasn't the type to back away from confrontations, but he didn't–no, actually he did seek them out. He just didn't want to have to deal with this one right now.)

Once at the studio, he read through what he was supposed to say (truth be told, he had been slacking off on the writing part of his job, but other people had helpfully taken over). Yep, about a third of the way through the show there was a piece on the nations. He'd just have to edit and hope he didn't lose his job.

Else kept giving him stony looks, which Gilbert ignored. He didn't have the time or the energy to worry about this on top of everything else.

Finally the segment that really mattered came up. Unfortunately, it was with Else. This wasn't going to help anything.

"So, Gilbert, there's this whole thing going on. Apparently the countries are personified. What do you think of that?" Else's voice was open, friendly. No one would suspect that she currently loathed Gilbert.

"Well, Else, I'm just not sure how that would be possible," Gilbert responded, his speech paralleling Else's. "Countries merge, break apart. Empires rise and fall. We know that even the surface of the Earth is always changing. My question would be: 'What happens to the personifications when these things happen?'"

Else nodded and added, "What I'm wondering is why anyone would have sufficient proof of this. I mean, someone must have some substantial evidence, because many newspapers are advertising this as the truth, but we don't have it."

Well, at least she was on his side.

"But let's pretend that this is true. What would the nations be like? I mean, that's bound to cause problems. What if a nation is a male of a certain ethnicity, and someone from that country is a female of a different ethnicity? That woman could feel like she isn't being represented in her country because, well, she isn't," Else continued.

"So you're saying it would be better that people not know who their nation is."

"No, I'm not saying that. I feel that the citizens have a right to know who it is they, quote en quote, live in."

Some television reporters believed in staying unbiased. At _AGB_, everyone gave his own opinion, even if, usually, the opinions were scripted. Right now, Gilbert was very glad of that.

"That's where I disagree," Gilbert said. "You spoke before of problems that could happen because of this knowledge coming to light." Else nodded in affirmation. "That could interfere with the-the ability of the nations to do what they should be doing, which is, I believe, managing and maintaining international relations. Also, if the identities of the countries are discovered and they don't like it, if they find out from what country the person who gave out the information of their existence comes, they may be angry at that country and damage an alliance." Though, Gilbert knew, it certainly wouldn't take someone spilling the beans about the nations to get them angry at each other.

The rest of his show passed with a stuttering Gilbert. It was unlike him, he knew, but he had post-nerves jitters. He wasn't looking forward to what the producers would say.

And, "Beilschmidt, what the hell was that?" was what they said. "I swear, sometimes I don't know why we gave you an anchor position in the first place."

_Probably because my boss called your boss' boss and told him to,_ Gilbert thought. "Sorry. It won't happen again."

"You know we embrace differing opinions here, but if that was how you felt, you should have written the segment, _like you were supposed to_," the producer went on. "And what was with you stumbling over your words like that? It's not like you, Beilschmidt. Not like you."

"I know it's not like me, not like me," Gilbert couldn't help but say, earning him a glare from the producer. Gilbert gave in and bent his head. He was capable of humility sometimes, unawesomeness of it notwithstanding. "You're right. I'm sorry. I was a mess. I'll be better next time."

"You're lucky there is a next time, Beilschmidt." The producer softened slightly. "Do better next time."

"Yes, Mr. Producer," Gilbert said, because in all honesty he had forgotten the guy's name, before dashing out the door. He had to get home by ten.

When Gilbert arrived home at 9:54, cutting it too close for comfort in his opinion, Canada was already set up for the video chat and was pacing around, clutching Kuma to his chest and looking worried.

"What's the matter?" Gilbert asked.

"I had a nap," Canada said. "A short one, while you were out. And I had this weird dream."

"Tell me," Gilbert demanded. "I'm the king of weird dreams."

_Canada's chest heaved. His lungs burned. Kumajackpot was running next to him, looking as if he had gone through a wood chipper. One of his ears was torn nearly all the way off, and his fur was patchy._

_ The Roman Empire was chasing him, followed by Veneziano and Romano, who were both shouting, "Grandpa! Grandpa!" except their voices had been switched. Canada wasn't entirely sure how he knew it was the Roman Empire, as he had never seen the guy, and didn't spend enough time around the Italies to know that they called Rome their grandfather._

_ All of a sudden, America, France, and England were running beside him, calling, "I believe in you!"_

_ Then Canada was magically standing on the surface of a mountain lake, and Switzerland was there, and he shot Canada in each hand and Austria was playing piano in the water._

_ And then Canada was somewhere where Ukraine was sobbing her eyes out while a bunch of stick-skinny people with shaved heads and numbers printed on their arms were gassed. (Canada didn't know how he knew that they were being gassed, but he did.)_

_ And then Canada was back at home, cracking egg after egg on the counter and not cleaning it up._

"And then I woke up," Canada finished.

"Um," Gilbert said. "Okay. While I would love to analyze your dream, it's 9:59 and we have something to do, _ja?_"

"Yeah," Canada said unenthusiastically.

Gilbert rubbed Canada's back. "Don't worry too much about it, 'kay? I once had a dream where you were pushed over a cliff."

Canada lifted his head. "Wait…what?"

Gilbert backtracked quickly, sighing when he saw a blinking light on his computer screen. "Oh, look, it's starting," he said and, grabbing Canada by the wrist, hauled him to the couch.

**Hello! So Wednesday was mine and Denmark's birthdays. I got a Hetalia towel. I hope Denmark got beer and a kiss from Norway. Happy birthday to you too, Sweden. Yesterday I met these people who were really hard-core about anime. One of them once wrote a paper or something on fandoms, especially anime fanfiction. I got a whole list of new animes to watch. I'll get to that once finals week is over. Euh...I have my first on Tuesday.**

**Anyone care to analyze Canada's dream? Don't worry, you don't have to. Anyway, next chapter is the video chat. See you next week!**


	11. This Virtual World

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia–Axis Powers, but I own Else, Gerhard, Kartoffel, Daniel, and any other OCs I might have stuck in here (who don't show up in this chapter, so I'm not sure why I decided to claim them in this particular disclaimer).**

**Warning: I kind of make fun of the name of a columnist who writes for the NYTimes. Charles M. Blow, don't read this chapter.**

_Us, as nations, rarely have to deal with impermanence. We don't die, and the people we spend time with, the other nations, don't die either. We are landmasses. We stay in pretty much the same spot forever, and if not forever, then at least by the time we notice we've moved, the world will have blown up or something._

_ I guess, now that a lot of countries no longer have monarchs, we deal with it on a more regular basis, but still…_

_ This could shake our world. If the media gets ahold of us, who knows might happen. And I'm scared about that. But what I'm mostly afraid of is that nobody will care about Prussia. About me._

"Is everybody present?"

"Yes, Germany," chorused the other nations.

"_Sehr gut_. Let us begin." From the screen, Gilbert could see his brother straighten his papers on his desk. And…how cute! His reading glasses were hanging around his neck from a beaded string. Germany would be a great librarian, Gilbert thought. Though he would get impatient and snap at small children, probably.

Germany went on, "Now, we know that people know of our existence, but not of our identities. The question is how they know. Who told them? Would anyone like to say anything? I was just wondering if you think that finding out who sold us out should be a priority."

From the tiny boxes on Prussia's screen, he could see countries nodding affirmatively or shaking their heads no. Nearly everyone was shouting.

"What's done is done," Canada whispered. "I'd like to know who told, but it isn't a priority." Though, of course, no one heard him.

America's loud, annoying voice triumphed for a moment, and Prussia heard, "You guys, we have to find out who did this and keep them in a country that is not mine, because then they'll have American rights." He sighed dramatically. "Sometimes it sucks to be such a hero."

Cuba, evidently, had heard him too, and immediately started yelling about Guantanamo Bay, but America was stuffing his face with burgers, and not paying attention. (If he was aware that Cuba was talking at all, which, by the blank look on his face, wasn't likely, but you never knew with America.)

Somehow, they quieted, and Germany didn't even have to shout this time. Miraculous!

"I'd like us all to get a better feeling of what, exactly, the world thinks of us, so I've chosen an article by Charles M. Blow, an Op-Ed columnist for the _New York Times_.

"REPRESENT!" America shouted, knocking Texas askew.

"Yes…anyway." Germany coughed and held up a piece of paper. "Is the failure of America rooted to one person? by Charles M. Blow."

Gilbert couldn't help it. He tried to choke back the laugh that threatened, but he ended up making an undignified snorting noise and spraying spittle all over the computer screen. From the way the others were reacting, some had gotten on the camera as well.

"Ew," Poland complained. "Like, really?"

Denmark just grinned at Gilbert.

"Prussia, please wipe your saliva off the camera. No, use a napkin, not your sleeve. Ach. Alright. As long as it's gone." Germany pinched the bridge of his nose. "Now can I please continue? Is the failure of America rooted to one person? by Charles M.–"

"Hey!" America cried, nonplussed and offended, just catching on to the title.

"Really, America, you've only just noticed that your own newspaper thinks you're a dying nation?" England looked down the bridge of his nose and reached his hand up in a stroking motion for no apparent reason.

America seemed to be used to this, however, so he just pouted and mumbled something along the lines of, "What? How could anyone hate me?"

Several countries rolled their eyes.

"Care to read that aloud, _Bruder_?" Prussia was the only one who had noticed that Germany's eyes were dancing over the paper in his hands.

"No," answered Germany, not looking away from the article. "You aren't going to listen."

Tears swam in America's eyes. "Ger-germany? Did you choose an article about me failing on purpose? Are you just trying to rub it in?"

"This is exactly what I was talking about," Germany muttered in a monotone.

"So you do admit you're failing," England said coolly.

"Don't be mean, Britain," France said at the same time as Canada said, "I really don't think that's necessary, England."

Austria sighed, a little louder than was necessary, Prussia thought, but then again, everything Austria did was wrong. "We aren't going to get anything done. We never get anything done. I really cannot fathom why I got up from my piano for this."

"Because you love me and my sexy ass," Prussia said, winking.

Hungary raised her frying pan menacingly. "I will hit you."

"But you can't," Prussia caroled.

Hungary twitched.

"Let's just get this over with," Poland said, tossing his hair over his shoulder. "I have to go feed my ponies."

Hungary twitched.

Prussia raised his eyebrows. "_Someone_ was circumcised a little too much."

Hungary twitched.

Poland gaped at the albino. "You don't get to make Jew jokes, Nazi!"

Hungary twitched.

"I wasn't making a Jew joke. I was making a Poland joke."

Hungary twitched.

"I lost seventeen percent of my people during World War II, you know that? _Seventeen percent_. You Nazis targeted Poles, you know. _All _Poles. Jews, homosexuals, gypsies, and _Poles._ Why just Poles? Why no Lithuanians?"

"Hey!" said Lithuania.

Hungary twitched.

"I know. You've only told me a few thousand times," Prussia said.

As Poland was about to fly into a rage, Prussia shouted, "Call me if you talk about anything important!" and clicked out of video chat. He turned to Canada. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Nope," said Canada.

"Canada?" Gilbert said.

"Yes?"

"Never mind."

"O-okay."

"People don't like me much."

"That's not true."

"No." Gilbert laid his head on Canada's shoulder. "It is true. It's okay. I've made my peace with it. But I think…"

"Yes?"

"I think that if we do decide to let the public know who we are…I think I'd like my identity to stay private."

_Don't make promises you can't keep, Preußen._

"That's okay."

"Canada?"

"Yes?"

"Wanna make me some pancakes?"

"Alright." Canada sighed. "You have to get your fat head off of me, though."

"Thanks," Gilbert said as Canada walked into the kitchen.

"I might need a reward, though," Canada answered, looking more America-like than ever as he winked over his shoulder at Gilbert.

Gil shook his head. "And I remember when you were all timid and stuttery. What happened?"

Canada's smile fell slightly. "I'm so sorry. I-I can go back to that if you're offended, I–"

Gilbert cut him off. "Don't be ridiculous, Mattie. I like you just the way you are now."

_Canada sighed. He couldn't help feeling sorry for Germany and Italy. They were so close, but Germany had lost the war and Italy was no longer his prisoner. Not to mention all those reparations Germany was being forced to pay._

_ He was at a train station in France, having just left the signing of the Treaty of Versailles, sitting on a bench by the tracks._

_ "It's silly, but I wish I had someone who I would miss and who would miss me," Canada said out loud, because he knew no one would hear him._

_ "God, me too." Someone sat down next to him. Canada looked at him in surprise, but the man didn't look at him. All the better, Canada supposed, since he wouldn't see him anyway. _

_ The man had a mess of white hair and crimson eyes. He was extraordinarily pale, but that didn't necessarily have anything to do with translucency. So why could Canada nearly see through him?_

_ Also the man spoke in English, responding to Canada's remark in the language it had been made in, but he had a German accent. What the maple was a German guy doing in France right near the place of the treaty signing? He wasn't the actual nation of Germany, Canada knew, because that had been a stocky blond man._

_ The man continued, "You wouldn't understand, but I'm fading, and it scares me. I feel sick most of the time. My life is coming to an end, I guess, but what happens then? Ugh, I hate myself. Pouring my thoughts out to a random guy like that. Well, anyway, I can't show weakness to someone who I'd see again, yanno?"_

_ "Um, yes?" said Canada._

_ Then the man did look at him, and right at him. "So what's your name?"_

_ "What?" Canada said. He must have sounded so stupid._

_ "What's your name?" the man asked again, his voice still gentle, but Canada could see he was suppressing a smirk._

_ "Oh! Uh…Matthew Williams."_

_ "Gilbert Beilschmidt," the man said back, turning to shove his right hand in Canada's face. Canada shook gingerly._

_ They were quiet for a few moments, but Canada quickly learned that Gilbert Beischmidt had some trouble being quiet._

_ "So what're you here for?" Gilbert asked. Without waiting for a reply, he continued, "I'm here with my brother. He has to sign some official stuff. 'Cuz of the war, yanno?"_

_ "Oh?" Canada said, suddenly suspicious. "Older or younger brother?"_

_ "Younger," Gilbert answered. "Acts so superior, though. Like, an eternal stick up his ass."_

_ "That's funny," Canada said. "You're not so old, so why would your _younger _brother have to sign a very important treaty? I doubt Germany would send someone so young to sign away so much of their land."_

_ Gilbert tensed. "How do you know the particulars of the treaty?" he asked. "You seem a bit too young to be privy to this kind of information too."_

_ Canada winced. "My–uh, my Papa is signing it. He's French."_

_ Gilbert's red eyes watched him. "I see. What's his name?"_

_ "F-Francis." Maple, he had overstepped before. This was why Canada always thought before he spoke!_

_ "Bonnefoy?"_

_ "Uh, yeah."_

_ Gilbert suddenly relaxed. "So Francey-pants is your 'Papa,' hmm? You must be Canada."_

_ "Yes," Canada said, calmer now that he knew the man knew France. "He talks about me?"_

_ "He's very proud of you."_

_ Canada grinned without thinking. France was proud of him! Then, buoyed by elation, asked (rather flirtatiously, which surprised him), "So you know who I am. Who are you?"_

_ Gilbert smirked again. "I'm sure a smart guy like you would be able to figure it out. I'll give you a hint: I am awesome!"_

_ Canada bit his lip, trying to think of countries who might be Germany's older brother. "Austria?"_

_ It was immediately obvious he had guessed wrong. Gilbert's face twisted into a look of disgust. "Austria? How could you confuse me with that loser?"_

_ Evidently, if Canada wanted to keep being praised by this guy, he would have to guess right this time. He thought about it. _Older than Germany, hates Austria…he feels sick, says he's dying. Got it!_ "Prussia!" Canada cried confidently._

_ Gilbert grinned. "That's awesomely right!"_

_ Canada beamed._

_ When Canada heard the methodical clicking of the train, he was almost disappointed. He wanted to spend more time with this Prussia guy, though, if he was being honest, he just wanted Prussia's loud, slightly obnoxious voice calling him awesome._

German maple syrup sucked (Canada wasn't even sure it was made out of maple), so Canada grudgingly settled for butter on his pancakes. Gilbert laughed at the face he made.

The pancakes seemed to stick to the roof of Canada's mouth and choke him (probably due to the lack of maple syrup), so Canada put his fork down and smiled at Gilbert.

"I love you, you know."

"Who doesn't?" said Gilbert.

"You're really awesome."

Gilbert stopped eating too. "What's up, Canada? I know I'm awesome, but nobody ever really tells me so."

"I was sad," Canada said. "I'm happy now."

"I'm glad," Gilbert said. "So what do you think about all this? You think you'll have to expose yourselves?"

"My citizens want me to," Canada said. "I can feel it. So I guess I must."

"What's going to happen to us?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you tell the world who you are and I don't. I guess we won't be able to see each other for a while, then."

Canada frowned. He hadn't thought of that. "We'll be okay. I mean, we survived World War Two and the Cold War. I'm sure we can survive this."

**Vaguely Historical Stuff: What Poland said was true, I believe. Although not all of the casualties were caused by Germany, you can bet that a lot of them were. **

** Poor Germany was not allowed a part in the negotiations about what would happen to him and the other Central Powers, which were like the Axis of WWI, during the Treaty of Versailles. Remember when Germany was making cuckoo clocks? Yeah, that was the result of that treaty. The main players in the negotiations were France, England, Italy, and America. I'm actually not sure if Canada was present, and Prussia was barely a thing then, but for the sake of my OTP, let's say they were there.**

** Author's Note: Yay! I've finished three of my exams! Only two more next week, and then no more school! This will actually be my last week of school in the US, as I'm going to be an exchange student in France next year, and I don't know how much time I'll have, so over the summer I'm going to try to update more quickly. Notice the word try. I've kind of been slacking off about writing this story, so I'm nearing the end of my queue. If I run out, I'll try to write chapters to be posted twice a week, but as my summer schedule is still iffy, I'm not sure whether or not I'll have the time.**

** Also, I have a poll up on my profile. It's for which Prussia pairing there should be in my upcoming (far upcoming) USUK fic, so hop on over there and vote! If I don't get any, I'm going to go with PruCan because it's easiest for me. While you're there, check out my new one-shot. It's about Prussia, because almost everything I write has Prussia, I think. Seriously. READ IT.**

** And this immense Author's Note comes to an end, so…so long, farewell, au revoir, auf wiedersehen! I'd like you to stay and re-ee-view! **


	12. Nothing Can(ada) Divide Love

**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. Seriously, I know that now, guys. I learned my lesson after that last fiasco.**

_I'm awesome._

_ I'm sorry. I'm just going through the motions now by beginning my entries with that phrase. It's only been four months here in Russia, and I already need to see my Canada._

_ It sucks being here. I'm just hanging around with Russia, his creepy sister, and a bunch of countries whose vital regions I've attempted to invade. Jeez. Talk about hostility. At least Ukraine has a huge rack._

_ I can't be away from my Canada any longer. I'm going to go insane. Hungary, who is rudely looking over my shoulder as I write this, tells me to say that I'm already insane. I'm sorry you've been violated, dear diary. I just don't want to get hit with a frying pan._

Gilbert stared at the ceiling. Canada was sleeping rather loudly. He didn't snore; instead, he breathed. It was a racket. _Hhhhh. Hhhhh._ Over and over and over again.

Usually this didn't bother Gilbert. In fact, quite the opposite. He found it to be one of the cutest things about a very cute person. But tonight it only reminded him of the decision he'd made.

_Am I doing the right thing?_ He could still hear his boss's cold voice, _Don't make promises you can't keep, Preußen._ Oh, _Gott._ Gilbert would never be able to look at his boss the same way again. His poor boss. They guy was such a sweetheart. He would be crushed if Gilbert were to start ignoring him. But Gilbert could see no other option…

He rolled out of bed and walked into the kitchen, phone in hand. His boss picked up on the third ring.

"Prussia? You do know I have a lot of paperwork, right? And that I need my sleep?"

"Yeah, I know. But I had a _rea_lly _sca_ry dream."

"…Italy? Is this you? You should be getting to bed. It's too late–well, early, for you to be up. I don't know how you're getting Prussia's voice so spot-on, but you must be exhausted."

"Boss! It's really me." And just like that, the whole story came tumbling out. "And I can't _live _without Canada! It's simply unfeasible! Please, I just–we've never been in a situation like this before and I just don't know what to do!"

"Prussia," his boss said softly. "Everything _will_ be okay. Nothing can divide love."

"Riiight…?"

"Truly, Prussia, as long as you love Canada and Canada loves you, there's nothing that can separate you. You will be so determined to see each other you will see each other. It's okay if you don't want to…come out, so to speak, because you will be able to spend time with your friends like you always have."

"Thanks, Boss."

"No trouble, Prussia. Actually, that's not true. Lot's of trouble. Now leave me be so I can get some sleep. Not all of us are always twenty-three."

They hung up and, after Gilbert took a Doxylamine pill (which he had for his insomnia), he crawled back into bed, hugging the Pikachu stuffed animal Japan had given him to his chest as Canada might hold Kumajiro. Speaking of, where _was_ Kumajiro? It wasn't like Canada to leave him behind.

Gilbert studied the worry lines on Matthew's face. They were etched faintly between his eyes and around his mouth. That was the thing about nations. Even nineteen-year-olds had worry lines. Canada's were more prominent than most. At least they had been when they'd just met. Back then, relations between the western nations were tenser, and it had taken its toll on all of them.

Also, Canada had been shyer, less likely to be noticed. Gilbert was proud of the fact that he'd gotten the guy out of his shell. People didn't mistake him for his brother so much anymore. He'd really become a country in his own right. His Canada.

Gilbert brushed his lover's curl absent-mindedly. A shudder racked Canada's sleeping body.

_Ich liebe dich, Kanada. Bitte mich niemals verlassen. _What had been meant only to be a thought found its way out of Gilbert's mouth in a whisper.

"_Jamais_," Mattie whispered back.

"Mattie?" Gilbert asked, but the blonde didn't respond. Gilbert couldn't tell if he was sleeping or simply ignoring the Prussian. Probably the latter, considering he'd just spoken coherently, but maybe Canada's subconscious just knew the exact right thing to say.

**A/N: Shorter chapter this time, but I felt like I needed to put it in. I love Prussia and Germany's boss. I picture him as looking like that actor, you know, Wally–hang on let me Google him–I can't find him! You know that short guy who laughs like, "Hee hee hee"? Found it! Wally Shawn! Thanks, Wikipedia.**

** Today was my last final! Yay! So I'm posting another chapter in celebration. And also because of [see end of Author's Note]. I have two more chapters pre-written after this one, so I'm going to have to write write write if I want to keep up with this twice a week thing. Luckily I probably won't be doing much this summer, which means writing! Unfortunately, summer also means mosquito bites. I have a couple on my leg and one in my armpit already. :( **

** You can all thank TaekwondoAssKicking for this chapter right now. His/her lovely reviews gave me the inspiration to finish the second future chapter I have written, so I'm feeling good and posting now.**

**Oh, by the way, the chapter where Canada goes crazy is next. And what Prussia says is, "I love you, Canada. Please never leave me." And then Canada says, "Never." Aww!**


	13. The One Where Canada Dreams Big

**Warning: There is some material in this that may be offensive to religious Christian types. I mean no harm. This fic is not meant for any religious, political, or historical purposes. Feel free to complain in reviews. I'm preparing myself.**

_I woke up this morning and didn't know where and when I was. After a moment I remembered, but I was lost for long enough for me to get scared. The only time I went to that stupid ex-nation support group, they talked about what they call, "Morning Alzheimers," where you either can't remember where you are or you think you're in a different time period._

_ And yeah, I know I _technically_ still have citizens to keep me okay, but their presences in my life has always seemed fractured, like they're on a loan from Germany or something. Maybe that sounds bad. But that's what it's like._

_ It just sucks, you know?_

Gilbert lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It had happened again. He had forgotten. But then he'd looked over at Canada, the side of his face smooshed in to the pillow, and remembered. Messing around with Hungary, beating up Lithuania, fighting with Austria, raising Germany, kissing Canada, shooting France, living with Russia, all of it. It all came back looking at Canada's sleeping form.

Gilbert smiled and kissed his Birdie on the nose.

Canada and Gilbert, knowing full well that such relaxing times couldn't last, stayed in bed for a while, heads touching. They'd better hope neither of them had lice.

"Prussia?" Canada said finally. "I had the dream again."

"The exact same?"

"Yeah." **[Recap: Canada's running with a mauled Kuma. Rome and the Italies are chasing him. America, France, and England believe in him. Switzerland shoots Canada in each hand, and Austria is playing piano in the water. Ukraine is crying about the Holocaust. Canada is cracking eggs and not cleaning up.]**

"What do you think it means?" Prussia asked.

Canada's eyes widened suddenly. "I know!"

"Okay," Gilbert said, smiling. "That's good. Tell me what you think it means."

"I'm Jesus!" Canada cried excitedly.

"Uhhh…" Gilbert stood there, not quite knowing what to say. "Um, no, Canada. I don't want to burst your bubble, but you aren't Jesus."

"Yes I am!" Canada crawled out of bed and ran halfway around the room. "It's the only explanation! I was running from _Rome_. Switzerland shot me in the _palms_. It's obvious! I don't know how I didn't see it before!"

"Right." Gilbert got out of bed too and inched toward Canada. "Mattie, sweetling, even if you are Jesus, it doesn't mean anything. We can go back to bed, okay?"

"No!" Canada whirled backward. Gilbert took a desperate grab at his wrist, but missed. "I matters a lot! Now that I know I'm Jesus, I have to make a difference!" Canada paused for a moment, allowing Gilbert enough time to catch his arm, but before Gilbert had a good hold on it, Canada tugged himself away and continued, "I know! I'm Jesus! I'm self-sacrificing! I'll be the one who tells the world who I am!"

Gilbert straightened. "Well, no one should be Jesus on an empty stomach. Let me get you something to eat."

"Okay," Canada agreed.

Gilbert left Canada in the bedroom and went to the kitchen, but not before stopping in the bathroom to get a Doxylamine pill from the medicine cabinet

"Canada?" Gilbert reentered his bedroom, carrying a piece of bread, the pill, and a glass of water. "Why don't you take this? I use it to get more awesome, and therefore more like Jesus." Hey, Germany may not be super religious nowadays, but the Teutonic knights were a Catholic order.

Canada took the pill with water, and Gilbert watched 25 mg of doxylamine go down his throat. Now it just needed to go into effect.

Gilbert frowned down at Canada. The blond was asleep now, having passed out from unwittingly taken Gilbert's drugs. It wasn't a disapproving sort of frown; this frown was worried. Worried and sad.

What would drive Canada to go–how should he put it–insane? Gilbert racked his brain for something he'd done to hurt Canada recently. There was that thing with Else, but that had been resolved. A couple nights ago, right after _Wreck-It Ralph, _Gilbert had…but no, that was a good sort of pain.

Gilbert was bewildered, so all the more reason to tell his brother. He should be telling Germany if stuff like this happened anyway, so it wasn't like he needed help or some shit like that. No, if anything, Germany needed Prussia's awesome help to acquire knowledge of the strange goings on of the nations.

But right now Prussia didn't feel awesome. There was something wrong with Mattie, and dammit if Gilbert wouldn't try to fix it. Canada's pain was Gilbert's pain.

"Germany?"

"_Is that actually my name?"_

"Um. Yes."

"_Really? I'm so used to you calling me something else I no longer recognize it coming out of your mouth."_

"I take that as a compliment. But Germany, I need your help."

"_You do?"_ His brother sounded confused.

"Canada had these dreams. I don't totally remember what happened in them, but now he thinks he's Jesus and has to sacrifice himself by calling whatever newspaper they have over there and telling them he's their country."

"_Mein Gott_," Germany breathed. "_I never would have pegged Canada as the type."_ He sighed. "_Well, type or not, we have to fix this. Where is Canada now?"_

"In the bedroom. I drugged him."

"_O.K. What I'm going to do is call America, much as I don't want to. Maybe he knows what's up."_

_ "_Right. _Gute Idee_._ Tschüs!_"

_ "Prussia…"_ Germany said before the former could hang up.

"What?"

"_Are you okay? You sound down."_

"I'm fine."

"_Bist sicher?"_

"Of course. I just–whatever's going on, why didn't he tell me?"

"_Maybe he didn't think it was affecting him so much. I'm sure it has nothing to do with you, Prussia."_

"You're right. It was stupidly unawesome. See ya, Brohas."

"_Ja…aufwiedersehen._"

**Ahh! Another short chapter! I'm so sorry!**

** Yep, Canada's Jesus. At least I didn't make him Muhammad. You can't do that. I'm not religious, but considering what happened after that guy made that video, I'm not going there.**

** By the way, Doxylamine is an over-the-counter prescription drug that is used as a sleep medicine. 25 milligrams is about the extent of the amount of it you can take safely, I think.**


	14. Kumajiro!

** I usually don't respond to Guest reviewers because I forget to put it in the AN of the next chapter, but I thought this one was important.**

** LadyoftheNight: First of all, I'm glad you like my story! Second, about the Muhammad thing: I see where you're coming from, but the reason I made him Jesus and not Muhammad was not based on affording respect to who revolts where, but out of respect for a religious custom. As I'm sure you know, in Muslim tradition, defiling Muhammad is against the law. But in my country you're allowed to say whatever the hell you want. You may get shit for it, but you can say it. That's why when that guy made that video basically disrespecting Muslim beliefs, nothing was done about it in a US court of law. (The guy was American, right?) Not that I oppose free speech at all; I have never had to worry about legal consequences to anything I've ever said.**

** There is Christian symbolism everywhere in literature and film and other things. I recently wrote a paper about how ****_The Old Man and the Sea _****was allegorical, making the old man Jesus. I was just more obvious than Hemingway. (Not comparing myself to Hemingway, by the way. I bet I could write something more interesting then ****_The Old Man and the Sea_****, but maybe not one with more literary significance. Or any literary significance.) My point is, just as that has become a way of showing respect for a man like Jesus, so too is not making someone Muhammad a show of respect for Islam.**

** But if you don't like that explanation, it's because I didn't want to be responsible for any deaths.**

**Just so everyone knows, Canada is not actually supposed to be Jesus. There is nothing else in this story to suggest that. It is merely Canada succumbing to stress.**

_Today was not as awesome as it could have been. Of course, no day is as awesome as it could be, because I am always forced to see someone other than Gilbird._

_ Anyway, today Canada and I announced our relationship to Germany and America._

_ Germany didn't have much of a reaction. He was just like, "Ja…" He does that often._

_ America, on the other hand, was livid. He screamed, "I thought we were friends!" at me and, "I thought we were brothers!" at Canada before storming out._

_ He came back later, shook my hand, and glared at me. Oh, well. America has a shorter attention span than the awesome me, who has a shorter attention span than Gilbird, who is a bird. He'll forget that he's mad at me in two days or so._

Canada was still passed out when there was a knock on the door. America was standing just outside the threshold with a distraught look on his face.

"Where's Canada?" he asked.

"My bedroom," Gilbert answered, motioning with his head.

America wasted no time in rushing over to the bedroom. He shoved Gilbird off Canada's head. Gilbird gave an offended peep and resettled in Gilbert's head.

"Germany called," he whispered. "What happened?"

Gilbert recounted the recent events to America. "I'm glad you're here. I have to go to work soon, and I don't want to leave him here by himself."

America didn't reply. He just stared down at his twin.

"Do you know what might have triggered this reaction?" America said nothing. "America? Well?"

"Oh." America shook himself as carefully as he could. "I think I might know, actually. As you know, there was a bit of a recession a couple years ago, and continuing on, especially here in Europe. Canada wasn't hit particularly hard, but Canadians aren't used to low paying jobs with few benefits, so they're kinda pissy right now."

"Oh. That's it?"

"Yeah. Canada thinks he can handle it, and he probably can. But there's no doubt that stress is getting to him."

Gilbert looked down, stroked Canada's feathery hair. "My little Birdie…there are some days I'm glad I'm not a nation anymore."

"I'm sure we all have those days. _Everybody makes mistakes; Everybody has those days; Everybody knows what, what I'm talking about; Everybody gets that way._"

Gilbert stared at America. "What the hell?"

"Sorry. Just popped into my head."

"Whatever." Gilbert scooped his messenger bag up from the floor by the strap. I have to go. The network is already upset with me because I haven't been writing the stuff recently. Think how mad they'll be if I stop showing up. Loyalty to me or no, I'll get fired."

"Good luck," America said, standing. "I'll call you if Canada wakes up."

"Thanks," Prussia said with a sigh, and he left.

"Gil!"

Gilbert sighed. Kartoffel was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now.

"Only my friends call me Gil," Gilbert muttered.

Kartoffel stepped back, hands up, palms facing forward. "Oh, I'm _sorry_. I didn't realize you were so uptight about this stuff."

"Just spit it out."

Kartoffel smirked. "Else told me to tell you that you're a jackass, and I was more than happy to oblige."

"Great." Gilbert plopped down on a chair and picked up the script. "Is that it? Because I'm busy." The stresses of the day were causing Gilbert's brain to feel like someone had run a sword through it, which, if that has never happened to you, was not an awesome feeling.

"That's not it. What the hell is going on with you? I don't think you deserve to be our boss if you're going to be so out of it–hey!"

Gilbert looked up. Gerhard had pulled Kartoffel away from Gilbert, causing the fat man to waddle away.

"Sorry about him." Gerhard sat down next to Gilbert. "We're worried about you, and we want to know what's going on."

"Well, that's nice, but nothing's going on."

"Don't screw with me, Gilbert."

"Nothing. You wouldn't understand."

"I was twenty-three once too, Gil. I can try."

Gerhard meant well. Gilbert knew he did. It couldn't hurt to tell Gerhard some of what was going on. At ex-nation support group, they always talked about sharing feelings. "Well, my boyfriend Mattie was jealous of Else, so he texted her mean things, and I apologized, which I never do, by the way, but she's mad at me for some reason, and now Mattie is going crazy, so I left him at my house with his brother, who has never really liked that Mattie and I were dating, so he may or may not trash my house, and my producer is mad at me, and something I have rarely told anyone might soon be common knowledge, and I can't deal with this."

Heat flushed through Gilbert's neck and cheeks.

"Gil," Gerhard began, "it seems like there's a lot going on in your life right now that you don't know how to handle but Gilbert, you're barely an adult. You shouldn't know how to handle so much."

Gerhard was interrupted by Gilbert's sudden laugh. "What?"

"Noth–" but then Gilbert's phone beeped, and he anxiously grabbed for it.

_Mattie's awake –Al_

"Gotta go," Gilbert said, and ran away. He didn't care if he was fired. Canada came first.

Gilbert fumbled with his keys. He couldn't put them in the lock fast enough. "Mattie!" he shouted, bursting in. Canada and America were sitting next to each other on the couch. Canada, bleary-eyed, was sipping from a bowl of soup.

"Gil!" he said.

"Birdie? Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah," Canada said. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Gilbert sat down on the other side of Canada, eyebrows bunched and eyes worried. This was no fake worry that he sometimes acted at, like when Italy was crying. No, Gilbert was really and truly worried about Canada. He always worried about Canada.

It was exhausting, being in love. Gilbert could only imagine how stressful it must be to have a kid.

Canada's eyes glazed for a moment. America and Gilbert exchanged looks over the blond head.

"Sorry," Canada said, shaking himself out. "What did you give me, Gil?"

"Sleep medicine. Don't worry. It isn't harmful. Not in large doses, anyway."

"Okay." Canada chewed his lip. "Can I have your Pikachu, Gil?"

"Of course." Gilbert got up, collected his Pikachu from his room, and brought it back to Canada, who cradled it against his chest.

The northern nation's eyes popped open suddenly. "Kuma!" he cried. "Alfred, what did you do with Kuma?"

America gave his brother a blank look, before it turned into one of horror. "Kumajiro!" he yelled, alarmed.

Gilbert looked from one brother to the other. "Kumajiro?"

"Kumabeano!" Canada said.

"Kumajiro!" America repeated.

"Seriously, why are we repeating his name?" Gilbert asked. "Someone fill me in."

"Kuma doesn't like you," Canada said, "so I left him with America while I was here. And America forgot him." Gilbert could hear the cold of a Canadian winter in Canada's voice.

"I'm sorry!" America cried, jumping off the couch and pacing furiously. "This situation isn't good for me, either, you know. He's gonna destroy my house!"

"At least we _know_ where you are!" Canada retorted.

"Does he know how to answer the phone?" America asked.

"I don't know. He's probably _capable_ of it, but he always has me do everything for him!"

"I always tell you not to pamper him so much!"

Gilbert, though he knew about sibling fights, decided that now would be a good time to step in. "Guys, let's just call someone else that can get to America's and watch Kumajiro."

America sighed. "_Thank_ you, Prussia. Someone has his head on correctly." He cast a meaningful glare over at Canada.

"And you're suggesting that I don't, right? I'm not the one that went to another continent and left him alone!"

"America, who do you live near who is still in the Americas and who you are on decent terms with?"

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting! You shouldn't have left him with me!"

"Or who is at least on good terms with Canada?"

"Oh, so you admit you're irresponsible!"

"Yeah, that should be easier."

"Yeah! But only when it's about babysitting talking miniature polar bears!"

"Mattie? Al. Seriously."

"I only have one talking miniature polar bear!"

"What's Cuba's number?"

"I meant in general!"

"SHUT UP!"

Canada and America looked over at Prussia in surprise. They had forgotten about him in the middle of their argument.

"What's Cuba's number?"

Calmer now, America wrinkled his nose. "Why would you want to talk to Cuba?"

"I'm trying to find someone to take care of Kumajiro, and Canada and Cuba get along all right."

America gave him the number. Prussia dialed it.

"¿Quién es? ¡Más te vale que no estás América!"

"No. It's Prussia."

"Prussia? You that guy with the scarf?"

Prussia grit his teeth. "No, that's _Russia_."

"Oh! Prussia! You're the brother of Germany. You're the one who won't leave us alone."

"Um. Yeah." Even Cuba didn't want him around.

"Okay. Nice to talk to you, man. Though I gotta say, we don't really hang out. Why are you calling?"

"Canada needs a favor."

"Can-Canada? Oh yeah. That guy?"

"You _do _know who he is, right? He looks like America, so you always beat him up?"

"Oh yeah. I know…Canada."

"Well, his pet polar bear is unsupervised at America's house right now. I know you hate him, but I need you to go there and watch Kumajiro."

"Why isn't Canada telling me this himself? You screwing me over, Russia?"

"No!" Prussia rubbed his forehead. "Canada is busy fighting with America like a good little Cuban."

"Good." Cuba sounded awfully pleased with himself. Considering Prussia had never before spoken with this guy, it was a little unsettling.

"Okay. So you are going to go to America's and watch Kumajiro?"

"No! Why would I do anything for America?"

"It's for Canada."

"I knew that. Fine then."

"Thanks, Cuba. Canada appreciates it."

"He and America are going to have to pay me, they know that?"

"They're okay with it."

"I expect vanilla Swiss almond. One of those big tubs. From each of them."

"Um…absolutely."

"I would ask for one from you, Prussia, but I bet you don't have any since it's always so cold up at your place. You're the country with Siberia, right?"

"No, I lived in Siberia for a while, though. With _Russia_. Because I was communist. Like you."

"Oh! I know you now. Sorry man, I'm a lot forgetful." Cuba chuckled.

"No problem, Cuba."

"Thanks for understanding. If you've ever read _The Old Man and the Sea_ you understand that I'm a bit alone over here. Don't care much for European politics."

"Of course not."

"But if you don't mind me asking, how come you've been so cooperative? I've already told you that I don't bother much with Europe, but I've heard you're hard to get along with."

"All for Canada." Gilbert laughed a little. "Isn't that right?"

"He's one sweet guy," Cuba agreed. "I always feel bad when I get him mixed up with America."

America and Canada had been staring at Gilbert for most of the conversation, their expressions the exact same: slightly parted lips, wide eyes. It made them look half stupid and half cute.

"So you'll go to America's?"

Cuba sighed loudly. "I suppose. He lives in Washington D.C. right?"

Gilbert repeated the question to America, who nodded and gave the address. Prussia repeated it to Cuba.

"Okay," Cuba said. "Let's hope the mob of Americans probably outside the White House right now, rallying for the identity of the country, don't see me and mistake me for him and then assume that I'm America, an illegal Mexican immigrant."

"I'm sure America doesn't want that either." Gilbert said mildly.

Cuba snorted. "Well, make sure they know what they're paying me. I guess I have to look for Canada's bear now."

"Thanks, Cuba. You're a good man." Gilbert watched America choke.

"Yeah, whatever." But Cuba seemed pleased anyway.

Gilbert hung up. "He's going there right now."

"I wouldn't trust that jackass, if I were you," America warned, sounding darker than Gilbert had ever seen him before.

"I'm sure he'll do it," Canada argued, but quietly, any former audacity gone.

"He will," Gilbert agreed, "as long as you each give him a tub of vanilla Swiss almond ice cream as payment."

"Whaaat!" America shouted.

"Don't be such a baby," Gilbert said. "It isn't awesome."

Canada laughed and hugged Gilbert around the waist.

**So America gets a bigger role. Sorry if you don't like America, but your opinion doesn't count. I love the guy and this is my story!**

** I never really liked Cuba, but after writing this chapter, I'm feeling a lot better about him. **

** I'm not actually too happy about this chapter. I feel like it's really disjointed and there's a lot of different things going on. And the Kumajiro thing is just because I forgot about him and wanted to justify why he wasn't there. It was also fun to write. :)**

**Also, I didn't begin writing this story intending to have so much PruCan, but that's how it ended up. Not too bad, but I'm a little pissed at myself for not being consistent about my plans. If I had to sum up this story, I would say, "Changing my mind."**

** Anyway, REVIEW!**


	15. Fox & Friends

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or Fox & Friends. **

_I was awesome today, as always, but I made a rather unawesome decision. I came with West to a G8 summit. And none of them could get along! France and England fought like an old married couple and America just acted like an idiot. I'm used to Italy, but America's idiocy is just stupid. I hold out no hope for the future if these nations stay powerful._

Somehow, the nations decided that the way to go temporarily was to ignore the lurking question of who it was that ratted them out and focus on public image. Canada agreed not to be self-sacrificial.

"Do we know what we are doing?" Germany asked over another video chat.

"Yes, Germany," everyone chorused.

"Prussia, are you sure you don't want to take part in this? Romano is."

"I'm sure, West."

"Okay," Germany agreed. "But really, what's the matter? I would have thought you'd never pass up a chance to be in the spotlight."

"No. I'm good. Really, _Bruder_. I've grown out of that."

Austria snorted. "That's not likely."

"Let's get back on track," Germany said. "Everyone put in the number of the news station you have chosen, but don't press 'talk'"

"This isn't fair," America whined. "It's like five in the morning in my earliest time zone." He was ignored.

"On the count of three," Germany continued. "One…"

The nations' hearts pounded harder than ever. This was worse than going to war. This was worse than everything, because it had never happened before.

"Two…"

Prussia stared at America and Canada, who were sitting not two meters away from him, but knew that if he were to speak, neither would respond. He wondered briefly if he'd made the wrong decision.

"Three!"

And the anthropomorphic personifications of every current nation pressed the 'talk' button on their phones. There was no going back.

"_This is Fox News, Fox & Friends. If you would like to make a statement on air, please call–"_

"Hi sweetie," America interrupted the female voice on the other end of the line. "I'm so sorry you have to be up this early. I would like to make a statement on air, actually, but I don't want to have to call another number. I am the personification of the United States of America."

_"What?"_

"I meant what I said," America said. "Can you get me on air?"

"_Uh–hang on a minute, Sir."_

"You take all the time you need."

_"And today we have a surprise phone interview with the personification of the United States himself. Hello, this is Brian Kilmeade. What should I call you?"_

"Hi Brian. Just call me America. Don't worry, it doesn't offend Canada. He calls me that too."

Brian laughed. _"So you just called this morning with no warning. We don't actually know if you're the real thing. Why today? Why now?"_

"Well, it wasn't my decision, but I'll talk about that in a minute. First I'd like to stress that I chose this channel not because of any political bias this network may or may not have, but because it is currently the most popular American news network. And Brian, I'd appreciate it if you stayed unbiased until I hang up, okay?"

"_I think I can handle that, America. So you were telling us why it wasn't your decision to go public now?"_

"Oh yeah! Right now the most popular televised news or newspaper in every country is being notified by the personification who they are. Which I guess would be easier if you could see me." America chuckled. "Hang on, I'll send you a picture of me."

_"Great. In the meantime, can you tell me how the personifications work?"_

"You know, I would love to, if I myself knew. All I know is that I came into existence sometime in the late sixteenth or seventeenth century."

_"Ah! We've received your photograph, America. Are you watching?"_

"No. Canada's on the phone with CBC Television right now, and we've only got the one t.v."

"_That's okay. Folks, this is your country_._"_

The photograph America had sent wasn't a very good one. It had been taken in 2005 on a little flip phone, back when cell phones with cameras were called camera phones. It showed him grinning with his arm wrapped around England, who was only half in the picture.

_"Who's the man with you, America?"_

"Hm? Oh, that's just Iggy. England, I mean. I call him Iggy 'cuz the Japanese word for England is _Igirisu_. You can probably listen to him on BBC right now."

_"Do you speak many languages, America?"_

"Oh yeah. We all do. I've got English, French, German, Russian, Manderin, Japanese, Spanish, Hindi, Italian, a little Dutch, Finnish, and Swedish, which means I pretty much also know a little Danish and Norwegian because of the Swedish, and maybe some Native American languages if I can remember them."

_"Those languages don't always correlate with the most commonly spoken languages_."

"That's because when us nations are all together, like for a World Meeting or something, we pretty much only use the Big Three: Manderin, Spanish, and English, and also Italian because Italy doesn't know many others and Romano never bothered to learn. The other ones I've picked up based on who I spend time with. I mean, my bro and France are always talking to me in French, so I know that, and Russian I picked up during the Cold War, and German during World War Two sometime–I wasn't in World War One for long enough to learn it then. So yeah."

_"Your brother is Canada?"_

"Yep! We're twins. I'm the younger one, even though my birthday was years and years before his. You know, American Independence Day and Canada Day."

_"Who's this Romano?"_

"Ah, he's just South Italy. Don't ask me why there's two of them."

_"What political party do you support?"_

America laughed. "I'd rather not discuss that. I've only voted three times in my life, and those were for FDR's first three terms, and everyone voted for him. I'll let you decide what political party I support more."

_"So do nations have friends?"_

"Friends? Of course we have friends. Well, I'm the only one with _Friends_, but you know what I mean."

_"What?"_

"I made a pun. Never mind. My best friends are England, Canada, and Japan. I have alliances with other nations, but I'm not necessarily friends with them."

_"How does history affect friendship? The United States hasn't always gotten along with the countries you listed as your best friends."_

"Oh. Well, of course it affects friendship. Me and Japan were friends before World War Two, so naturally I was hurt when he bombed Pearl Harbor. I may have gotten a bit swept up in my emotions, though. You know, with Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Guys, if you're ever hurt by a friend, don't spend years developing weapons of mass destruction with some of the smartest people in the world. It isn't a healthy reaction. Also, England's still pretty pissed about the Revolution. He rarely attends my birthday parties."

_"How does that work? Were you England's colonies, France's territory, or Spain's?"_

"That's a difficult question to answer, Brian. Obviously, a lot of different countries settled in different parts of me. I was British America before I was independent, but once I bought the Louisiana territory, I got a little French-ish. Actually, when I was a baby, Finland and Sweden just wanted to have some peace in my land, but the Netherlands was mistreating them. They kept seeing me around, so they told France and England about me, and a bunch of nations got in a fight over who would be my big brother. England eventually won the fight, so he became my big brother. He wasn't around much, since he had a bunch of other colonies and his own country to run, but we were close. Until we weren't."

_"Does the president know of your existence?"_

"Well, duh! What do you think I'm doing with my life?"

_"How does war affect you?"_

"War? If it's on my own land, I get pretty hurt."

_"How about natural disasters?"_

"Okay. Let me outline this for you. If my people are killed by other people, I feel it more than a natural disaster. The severity of the natural disaster affects how much I'm affected, and how many people die does too."

_"Are you affected by destruction of land?"_

"Yes, but I'm essentially the people, so if no one is killed, I don't feel much. There are exceptions, though. Most notably if it happens to be important to a lot of people. I was hurt when the Old Man of the Mountain fell, though not as much as I would be if the Statue of Liberty flooded like in that really scary movie. When England and Canada burnt down the White House in 1814, I was in pain. Oh! And also, if Pearl Harbor is bombed again and nobody dies, I will be hurt more than I would have been if nobody died the first time, because it's now a nationally noted thing in a way it wasn't back in 1941."

_"Do any countries bear grudges against you based on something that happened in history?"_

"No doubt, dude! I already told you about England and the Revolution, but there's also Mexico because of Texas, and you know, a bunch of countries. Anyone I've affected at all, really. And I'm pretty sure Prussia still upset about everyone just deciding not to help his nation, you know, become a nation again and for letting him just go to Russia."

Prussia, listening to America's side of the conversation, widened his eyes. America noticed this. "Shit! I wasn't supposed to talk about that! Sorry about that. Sorry. Gotta go." America hung up in a rush. "Sorry, Prussia."

"It's okay," Prussia said. "Prussia could be anyone. He could be dead, for God's sake! You haven't revealed anything."

America was obviously relieved. "That's good," he said. "I gotta go pee." He started to head to the bathroom.

"America," Prussia said. "I'm not mad at you. What I mean is, I've been mad at you a lot, but I'm not mad at you about that."

America grinned. "That's good to hear," he said, before rushing off to the bathroom.

**Fox & Friends is something on Fox News that shows in the early morning. I've never seen it because 1. I'm an early riser compared to other people my age, but I don't wake up that early and 2. I was raised in an extremely liberal part of the country and picked up that Fox=evil Republicans, despite the fact that my parents taught me nothing anything of the sort. My dad actually considers himself a swing voter. It's just that the Bush administration is the Republican administration I remember. Sorry if you like Bush.  
It is America's interview because I am American and I wanted to do the least amount of Googling possible for this chapter. (Also, I have a suspicion that Google is country specific.) Besides which, America and Canada are still at Prussia's, so we get some Prussia in there.**

** I now have over fifty reviews! The fiftieth reviewer was either a random guest reviewer who didn't even come up with a name like sourpuss squid or guest reviewer Whitlinger, who may or may not be Anna Whitlinger. (I've never been sure if it is or not, so if you could tell me in your next review, that would be great.) The reason I'm not sure is that I got a review in a PM response to my reply to a review. But anyway, thank you all so much for your reviews! It really means so much to me. I never expected so many reviews. Of course, this means all of you that have spoiled me with them are going to have to read everything else I write because now I'll be crushed if I don't get reviews.**

** This Author's Note is getting much too long, but I have to tell you that this story has six-ish chapters left. This includes the Epilogue. I know. I'm almost done writing the thing! Next update is going to be on Canada Day, and then one on Independence Day, and then one on July 8, then July 11, then Bastille Day, then the epilogue I'll post sometime after that. Like the sixteenth or seventeenth, probably.**

** So this chapter is pretty much me getting my ideas about the nations out there. If you want to give your own opinions, I'd love to hear about them in review. *hint, hint***


	16. The Real Kartoffel Bastard

**Warning: Prussia drops the f-bomb in this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Axis Powers Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya, who made me really happy when I discovered that America's Storage Closet was a lot better in the manga than in the anime. **

_I'm about to go to work. The nations just gave telephone interviews earlier today. This is going to be weird._

The set was abuzz when Gilbert entered. Even Else, in her newsie excitement, forgot that she wasn't getting along with Gilbert and gave him a quick hug. Only Kartoffel hung separate, with a menacing little smirk on his face. It was creepy, but Gilbert shrugged it off as his usual expression.

"Can you believe this, Gil? Gerhard? Isn't this amazing?" Else blabbered. "Oh, God. I really hope we get an opportunity to interview one of them, preferably Germany. I can't believe Carlsen Ahrens was the one working when he called."

Kartoffel was staring at Gilbert. This was getting more and more unnerving by the minute.

"Ernest!" Else cried. "Come join us!"

"Please don't," Gilbert muttered.

Kartoffel walked toward the three anyway. "What's the matter, Gilbert? Upset that your _friends_ have been more active in the reporting community than you have?"

It could have been a completely innocent question. Well, not innocent exactly, but it might not have been hinting at something else. Kartoffel could have just been talking about Else and Gerhard, who still wrote segments where Gilbert had stopped, or even Carlsen Ahrens, the anchor that got to interview Germany earlier that day. But the way Kartoffel said it, slowly and deliberately, meant to convey deeper meaning, with that word, 'friends' emphasized, made Gilbert freeze.

"Not really," Gilbert answered coolly, narrowing his eyes. "It isn't really their jobs. Theirs rest more heavily on…politics."

The corner of Kartoffel's mouth quirked upward. "I'm sure they're very close with certain world leaders."

"Undoubtedly," Prussia replied.

"Maybe you're just jealous because you no longer have those," Kartoffel paused, his voice trailing on the last word, "connections?"

Prussia slid on his sunglasses, a valuable ally in a fight of wits. "Not likely. I'm so used to being a night-time anchor that it's almost as if it's been sixty-six years since I had more powerful connections."

Kartoffel cocked his head. "But surely you aren't more than sixty-six years old, are you, _Königen _Gilbert?"

This was it. Prussia could have excused the conversation as just Kartoffel being annoying up until now, but once enough circumstantial evidence has amassed, the defendant in question is guilty. According to Prussia, that was.

"No," he answered. "Of course I'm not. I was born in late 1989, making me twenty-three.

"Wikipedia list your birthday as November 9, 1989."

"You Wikipedia me, Kart–Ernest? I'm touched."

"How coincidental that it's also the day that the Berlin Wall fell."

"That is a coincidence. I've never thought about that before."

"Perhaps it isn't such a coincidence. Did you choose your birthday?"

"You can't," Prussia retorted. "Besides, thousands are born every day. It's simply a matter of chance and the approximate time of conception that I was born on that day."

"I knew that," Kartoffel said.

"Because there's no reason for you to know any different, is there?"

"No," Kartoffel answered, but not before giving Prussia a bright smile.

"Well this is weird," Else said.

"What was that about?" Gerhard asked.

"Just us bonding," Gilbert said, wrapping an arm around Kartoffel's shoulders.

"No," said Kartoffel, and moved away.

Gilbert sighed and unlocked his door. Normally the revelations of the day would make his antsy, but right now he just felt tired, like he couldn't move any more.

Kartoffel was the leak. Gilbert knew it was he. Granted, Kartoffel could only have known that Gilbert was Prussia, but Gilbert had it in his mind that Karoffel was the one who gave out the information about the nations. He wasn't sure how, but Gilbert was sure there had been chances for Kartoffel to see. Unfortunately, they all meant that Gilbert was the one responsible for giving Kartoffel the information to expose the nations.

America and Canada were on the couch playing Mario Kart.

"Come play, Gil!" Canada said, looking away from the television.

"How are you still winning?" America shouted. "You aren't even looking!"

Noticing Gilbert's expression, Canada dropped the controller and walked over to him. "What's the matter, Gil?"

"My colleague at _AGB_ knows I'm Prussia."

Even America looked up at that. "What?"

"He knows," Gilbert insisted, and recounted the events at work to America and Canada. "Whatever. There's nothing we can do, short of killing him. So what happened with you guys?"

"We played video games all day," America said. "We can't go outside. It isn't likely that you Germans were watching American and Canadian broadcasts, but it's possible someone would recognize us, so we didn't chance it."

"I guess you guys are going to have to sneak out of here when you leave, huh?" Gilbert asked.

"Wait a sec," Canada said. "Did you just say someone knows that you're Prussia?"

"Yeah." Gilbert raised his eyebrows at Canada. "Weren't you listening?"

"It only just sunk in," Canada responded. "How does he know?"

"I just told you!" Gilbert cried. "Seriously, what have you guys been _doing_?"

"We just told you," Canada said.

"Okay," Gilbert said, marching past Canada and, snatching the remote away from America, turned off the television. "You guys have had too much screen time. America, go brush your hair." America rolled off the couch and dragged himself to the bathroom. "Canada, have you guys eaten?"

Canada stared at Gilbert blankly. "Eaten?"

"Well, that answers that question," Gilbert sighed. "T.V. is awesome and all, but eating is awesome too, Birdie. Come help me make dinner."

Making dinner was the last thing Gilbert wanted to do. Not only was he physically exhausted, but also his mind felt ready explode. Still though, he managed to find some hardening but still good _Brötchen. _He pulled out the liverwurst to go along with them, and they had a dinner.

Gilbert, America, and Canada were sitting around the coffee table, gnawing on the rolls. Gilbert sighed and raised his beer. "To this fucked up world."

Canada and America repeated the line, and then they all drank.

**So was it Kartoffel? Was it not? You won't know until the end! Though I will tell you I hadn't planned this Kartoffel moment, so take everything at face value from here on out. I'm too scared to drop hints about future chapters.**

** Brötchen are rolls. When I'm in Germany I get them fresh from the bakery next to the Lidl and they're warm and soft and delicious. Mmm.**

** Oh yeah, and the zuckerkuchen Gilbert ate in a previous chapter is like a flat cake with tons of sugar on top. I don't think I mentioned it in the actual chapter.**

** I didn't want to say this in my last A/N because it was too long, but my USUK sucked. I scrapped it. I haven't forgotten those that voted on my poll, though! When I eventually write a better USUK I swear there will be PruCan! **

** By the way, the response to last chapter was phenomenal. Thank you all so much.**

**6 more chapters to go!**

** Happy Canada Day!**


	17. Press Conference

**You know how I said last chapter that there were six chapters left? Well, I lied. There were five, and now there are four. I'm so sorry for misleading you all!**

**Warnings: Extreme rush of love and sympathy for Prussia**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia-Axis Powers.**

_This morning I was struck with the realization of my immense awesomeness. To think that I was once just a bunch of über religious knights! Sure the Pope loved me, but I've created a little empire for myself. The name of Prussia shall never be forgotten!_

"So what about nations that aren't nations anymore? Like, empires. Were there anthropomorphic personifications of empires? Are there still?"

These questions were asked by a preppy, young American reporter with horn-rimmed glasses and a blonde ponytail. She was standing directly in front of Gilbert, and the ends of her hair kept swishing past his nose. It was irritating.

The rush of sound in the room signified that plenty of others wanted to know the answers to the questions as well.

"Ve~" Italy said. "There was Grandpa Rome!"

"That would be the Roman Empire, correct?" Ponytail Girl asked.

"What?" Italy's eyes opened in confusion. Everyone present gasped, not having seen Italy's eyes before. "Oh! Yeah, that's right!" He sobered suddenly. "I apologize. It's just…that name reminds me of…Holy Rome!" He began to sob, and clutched at Germany's shirt. "I never talk about him. He went away to fight and he never came back!"

Gilbert and Austria's eyes met through the crowd, and they each looked at Germany.

There was a collective, "Aww." Italy sure knew how to play an audience, even if he wasn't doing it purposefully.

Romano, on the other hand… "Stop being such a pussy, Veneziano. And stay away from my _fratello_, Potato Bastard."

Spain patted Romano on the head good-naturedly. "Fuck off, bastard."

The reporters, cameramen, and historians gasped at Romano's choice of language. The other nations looked either bored, irritated, or as if they had picked today to not take their Ritalin.

"Okay!" America shouted. "Enough of those Mediterranean people! Listen to me!"

"But we were discussing the Roman Empire, jackass," Romano yelled. "And you weren't there for it! It was a better time, that's for sure!"

"So can one of you answer the question please?" Gilbert could hear impatience in Ponytail Girl's voice.

"Okay," another reporter said. This one had carefully slicked-back dark hair, and he spoke with a French accent. "Maybe this will work better. We've ascertained that there have been a Roman Empire and a Holy Roman Empire. Has there been a Byzantine Empire?"

"Yes!" some of the nations cried, excited at having an actual direction.

"Ancient Greece?"

Greece woke up, sat up straight, opened his eyes, said, "Mother," and fell back asleep.

"Ancient China?"

"Oh. That was just me-aru."

"Ottoman Empire?"

Turkey cackled. "Ah, the good old days!" Hungary looked significantly more angry.

"Ancient Egypt?"

Egypt himself smiled softly, which was all the answer anyone needed.

"Aztecs? Incas? Mayans?"

Mexico and Peru cast dirty looks at Spain, who shrunk away. "There _were_," Mexico said pointedly.

"Geddoff me," Romano said to Spain, who was clinging to Romano's shirt.

"Yugoslavia?" asked Ponytail Girl.

"Yep," one of the nations said. If Gilbert had to guess, he would have said it was Serbia or someone in that area, but he couldn't see, and couldn't tell the voice from one word.

"Wait," a stuffy-looking guy who Gilbert would have bet was a historian broke in. "Why didn't Yugoslavia become one of the current countries it was made up of?"

The nations looked at each other and shrugged. "We try not to think about that stuff," America said.

"How about the Persian Empire?" Stuffy asked.

"Yuh-huh," someone answered.

"Muslim Empire?"

"Yeah. Don't ask why it didn't end up as Iraq or someone," Spain said.

There was a lull for a moment, an almost impossible feat in a room of eager reporters. But reporters were the kind of people who, once they started on a mission, had to see it through. "Are there any other ex-nations?" French Reporter asked.

Prussia stood there, amidst not only his fellow reporters, but also his fellow nations. Yet he was entirely alone.

Tears clouded his vision. _I must not cry._ Pure embarrassment made it harder to keep the tears from falling, somehow.

Several nations were staring at him, concerned. They must have seen the flush that Gilbert knew was in his cheeks and creeping down his neck in the unnatural silence.

Gilbert turned to Julian, whom the network had chosen to go on this assignment with him. "Can you handle this?"

"Don't you want to ask a question or something?" Julian asked.

Gilbert shook his head. "Ask one if you can get a word in. Just take notes for me, please. And if you would, don't mention this to the producers." Gilbert turned and pushed his way through the crowd, not caring to reply to Julian's questions.

Austria, Germany, Hungary, Canada, America, Denmark, Spain, Cuba, and even Russia were watching Prussia turn and leave, obviously upset.

What could have been running through the other nations' heads was anyone's guess, but Canada saw for the first time how not-alone he was. Prussia had come in and showed Canada that someone would be there, and now Canada had to return the favor.

"There was Prussia." To all the nations' surprise, it was Austria who spoke up.

"Ah yes!" exclaimed the historian who asked difficult questions. "Prussia. Tell me, what became of Prussia? Is it a boy or a girl? Wait–didn't one of you mention Prussia in your telephone interview? Male, wasn't he? Are these "dead" nations still living, or have they died too?"

"Some of them are alive," Germany said. "Some of them are dead."

"Excellent!" the historian said. "Which ones?" It was cute to see him so enthusiastic, really, but this was infringing on territory that the nations had been asked to avoid, and while some nations hadn't in the past exactly respected territorial boundaries, they knew better than to speak here.

"The Roman Empire disappeared," Germany responded. "Perhaps Greece knows what became of Ancient Greece, but no one else does. No one knows what happened to the Holy Roman Empire."

Austria looked down. He and Prussia did.

"Many of the nations that were abolished more recently are still around," Germany concluded.

"So Prussia and Yugoslavia are alive," the American with the ponytail stated.

Austria stopped paying attention after that, as reporters upon reporters upon historians descended on the nations, shouting out questions and berating them for past deeds.

Gilbert collapsed onto the bed in his hotel room. The corner of an unawesomely hard pillow dug into his back. Gilbert shifted, grabbed the pillow by the opposite corner and flung it across the room. It hit his sunglasses and sent them flying across the room as well. The lights made him dizzy, but he just shut his eyes and ground his palms into them.

Tears snuck out from under his hands, rolled over his cheeks, and made his ears wet.

"This was stupid," he said to himself. _I should never have considered joining Canada and Germany and exposing myself. _He chuckled a little at the thought of "exposing himself" despite the fact that he currently felt like shit. _I should have known no one would care. No one would remember._

He finally got up, wiped the tear tracks from his face, and retrieved his sunglasses. He opened his laptop.

_Breaking news. _The words flashed across the screen. Gilbert followed the link below and came upon a video.

_"What do I want most in the world?" America asked, probably repeating a question that was asked of him (or, more likely, someone else). "Well, first I want a stable economy, for my politicians to start getting along, and for people to stop shooting up other people, and then I want that amp from _Back to the Future_."_

Gilbert smiled a little. Typical America. Though he had to admit, that amp from _Back to the Future_ was something he secretly coveted himself.

He clicked away from the webpage to check his email. He had several from Canada, two from Germany, and one from Austria.

Canada's all said something like this: _Are you okay, Prussia? Don't worry, they remembered you after you left. Well, since you're going to see the video anyway, probably, I guess there's no point in lying to you. We actually had to remind them. But they got really excited. I love you. Write me back when you get this, okay?_

Gilbert didn't want to reply, but he knew Canada would freak out if he didn't, so he wrote, _Yeah, Birdie, I'm okay. Love you too. Gil._

Germany's were pretty much the same as Canada's, only the tone was more professional. Much as Gilbert loved his brother, he didn't feel like disappointing the stern blonde with his casual manner, so he didn't respond.

Austria's said: _Yes, Prussia, they forgot about you. I give you permission to feel sorry for yourself. I would probably do the same if I were in your position._

_ Done moping? Good. Time to get up and annoy someone. Seriously. I know you're being melodramatic right now, Prussia. You're most likely thinking, "My life is over. I'm no longer a giant jackass." Keep in mind that I'm impersonating you. I would never say such things. Even you cannot provoke me into cursing as if I were not one of aristocratic standards. It's bad enough I'm emailing you when I should be dancing for the media. Figuratively. I thought I should make the distinction for you since you aren't likely to make it on your own. If I were being literal, I would have said that I should be playing Chopin for the media._

Gilbert grinned, a real one this time. Though Gilbert had thought it impossible, Austria was right. He was done moping.

He had another email, this one from the Byzantine Empire. Prussia rolled his eyes. He knew it would just be another notification about ex-nation support group. Whatever. May as well read it, since he had opted out of the more interesting thing he was supposed to be doing.

_Hello, fellow ex-nations! Just so you know, this month's group read is _The Things They Carried _by Tim O'Brien. It is an American book about the Vietnam War. Please let me know if you have political objections to reading this book. Keep in mind that we do not accept personal objections as reasons to choose a different book. America's personality is not a reason to take issue with his citizens. -Byz_

_ P.S. I know several of you are alarmed at the knowledge of the nations coming to light. We are having a session to discuss our feelings about this event. Please attend if you can._

There was a whole separate note for Prussia only. _Prussia—I know you're very busy with work. It is great that you are making a life for yourself outside of the international circle, so to speak, but we would love it if you could make time to attend one of our sessions. No one is judging you._

Screw it. He was done moping. He was angry.

Gilbert whirled and punched the mirror in his room, unable to keep up with the stream of emotion he felt. To his horror, tears were streaming down his face. He hated himself. He hated everything.

"Dammit!" he shouted, before laughing. There was nothing funny about the situation at all. His laughter was high in pitch and short in length. He sounded crazy, and the crazier he sounded, the more he laughed.

Someone knocked at his door. Gilbert froze. Checking in the broken mirror to make sure it didn't look too much like he'd been crying, Gilbert got up to answer it.

"Are you okay?" Julian asked. "You look as if you've been crying."

Internally cursing himself, Gilbert laughed weakly, "Yeah, I think I was allergic to Ponytail Girl's hair."

"Okay," Julian said dubiously. "Otto's video is being streamed and is now showing on _AGB_."

"Otto?"

"The cameraman."

Gilbert laughed mirthlessly. "I have _got_ to start remembering people's names. That must be why nobody can remember mine. It's karma."

"What are you talking about?" Julian asked, confused.

"Nothing," Gilbert said quickly. "You didn't report me, did you?"

"No, but I did call Gerhard. He says you've been having a hard time lately?"

Gilbert laughed again. "Why do you people always want to help?"

"Because we care about you, Gil," Julian answered. His big brown eyes, so unlike the ones Gilbert was used to looking into when he needed comforting, stared imploringly at Gilbert.

"Why? Nobody else does."

"Okay, clearly I'm not that good at this therapy stuff," Julian said, stepping forward to enter the room.

"Don't go in there!" Gilbert shouted.

"Why not? Let me in, Gil." Julian succeeded in pushing past Gilbert. "What happened here?"

"I'm, uh, gonna pay for that," Gilbert said, running his hand through his hair.

"Come on," Julian said, crouching down and collecting a piece of the mirror. "Let's clean this up."

Gilbert knelt next to him and helped pick up the pieces of the mirror broken out of rage.

**I actually wrote this chapter before the two preceding ones. I'd felt a little uninspired, but then suddenly I had an idea for this chapter. It didn't come out quite as I wanted it to, but things rarely do. Whatever. I like it anyway, and I was probably the third most focused writing this chapter than all the others in this fic (after the first one and the one about Daniel. I had a lot of fun with Daniel's chapter).**

** So many reviews! They make me feel wonderful! Let's see if we can get the number up to one hundred by the end of the story.**

** Big things are revealed next chapter!**

** Anyway, let me know what you think! (This means review.)**

** Happy Independence Day, Americans, and happy birthday, America!**


	18. Revenge

**Disclaimer: I think I'll go with the standard "Don't own, don't sue" for this one.**

_I hate it when people go through my personal things. I just can't stand it, which is probably why Hungary is so annoying. She's always looking for pictures of Canada and me. But anyway, I hate it when people look through my stuff._

Else was bitter. Why did Julian and Gilbert get to go to the huge nation press conference? It wasn't fair. The worst part was, she understood the reasoning. Gilbert was the lead anchor and Julian was the foreign correspondent. They both knew a language other than German, while Else did not. (Actually, she did, but it was Latin.) But she was still mad.

Ever since she was little, Else had subscribed to the notion of revenge. It maybe wasn't the best habit for her parents to ignore, but they had, and to this day, Else believed that someone who'd wronged her should get his just desserts, and she should be the one serving them.

Else also knew how much Gilbert hated people looking at personal items. So she'd managed to get Gilbert's email password by discreetly staring at the keyboard when he was typing it in.

She eagerly logged in to his account, excited to find something private she could throw back at him, but found to her disappointment that all of the emails were about work. Everything even Kartoffel knew.

All but one.

The one that was different was addressed from cubana . The subject line was re: Let's get together sometime!

Else started at the bottom, with the first email. _Hey man, it's Carlos. I really liked talking to you the other day. Let's get together sometime, _si_?_

_ Yeah, _Gilbert's reply read. _But in the future, if you want to get in touch with me, email me at blackeagleorder . _

Else didn't wait to read the reply from "Carlos." She immediately attempted to log in to Gilbert's other email. Unfortunately for her, she didn't know the password for this one.

Um…let's see. What did Gilbert care about? _awesomegilbertbeilschmidt _wasn't it, and neither was _AwesomeGilbertBeilschmidt. _He was always talking about Prussia. She tried _Prussiaisawesome_. No luck.

After many failed attempts, Else resorted to looking up the randomest facts about Prussia. Her theory that the password had something to do with the ex-nation was logical, as she found that the Order of the Black Eagle was something like the highest order of chivalry ever in Prussian history.

Eventually, Else was certain that she would never get the password. She typed in one last try: _25.2.47, _the date of Prussia's abolishment.

To her surprise, it was the authorized password. And the results were better than she could have hoped.

The most recent email was listed as from "Canada." Gilbert had replied, but "Canada" had addressed the email to Prussia.

This was…well…

She called Gerhard and Ernest over to her apartment. She knew Gilbert didn't like Ernest, but she figured they would surely get along better once Ernest saw this.

"I don't think we should be going through Gil's email," Gerhard said once he'd arrived and Else had explained what she'd found.

"What do you mean?" Ernest said. "We absolutely should be doing this! If Gilbert has been keeping something like this from us…"

"We don't even know if it's true," Gerhard protested.

Else opened a new browser window and found a live broadcast of the press conference. Then she went to her voice mail. She had saved the one from Gilbert's boyfriend, and she called the number back.

The phone must have been on vibrate, but the man sitting behind the marker labeled "Canada" jumped slightly in his seat and glanced down, as if looking at his phone. He didn't pick up.

"See," she said. "That's Gilbert's boyfriend."

"So what are we going to do about this?" Ernest asked, grinning. "I mean, Prussia obviously doesn't want people to know about him."

"This still seems wrong to me," Gerhard said. "I don't want any part of this. I'm leaving." He left Else's apartment, slamming the door shut.

"Okay," Else said to Ernest. "We'll tell Gil that we know he's Prussia, and we'll talk to him about it."

"No," Ernest said, shaking his head. "We shouldn't tell Prussia. He'll just get mad at us."

Else ran a hand through her hair. "I need a drink. Let's go to a bar."

A few minutes later, Else and Ernest were settled at the bar of Nina's. "Scotch on the rocks, please," Else ordered the bartender.

"A beer," Ernest said.

The bartender was the same one who'd been there when Else and Gilbert were last a Nina's. As Else and Ernest spoke, he seemed to be giving them funny looks as he wiped off the bar and refilled the little bowls with pretzels.

"I think it would really be better for Gilbert if we told the world that he's Prussia," Ernest said. "You know how he is. He would never pass up a chance for people to look at him, so he must be feeling _really _insecure. We'd only be helping him."

Else nodded. She was apprehensive of the plan, but it made sense. "You're right. In fact, it's probably best for everyone that the nations were revealed in the first place."

"Really? How so?" Ernest seemed amused somehow.

"So they don't have to lie anymore," Else answered. "But if we are helping Gilbert by revealing him as Prussia, then my revenge goes out the window."

"It's okay, Else," Ernest reassured her. "Gilbert's in a bad place right now, as we can tell, so that's revenge enough."

Else nodded. "Yeah. Poor darling." Even though she'd rather hated Gilbert for a while, she still kind of loved him, so she wanted to help him in every way she could.

"Can I tell you something?" Ernest asked, leaning forward and dropping his voice to a whisper. "I was the one that revealed the nations."

"But how did you know?" Else asked at the same pitch.

"I've long been a part of the community that searched for evidence about the existence of national embodiments. My number was in the Contact section of the website where we had forums discussing possible sightings. I received a call from a little boy who sent me top-secret documents, mainly from the British government, but some Swedish and Finnish documents as well discussing nations. He gave me the documents only after I'd assured him that I would say that 'Sealand' was a real nation. I didn't though, because I've never heard of a country called Sealand."

"So you were the one that first started helping the nations," Else said, nodding. "But you knew that Gilbert was Prussia the whole time and didn't say anything?"

"I didn't know what a bad place he was in," Ernest said, hanging his head. "If I'd known…if I'd known I would have said something."

"It's okay, Ernest," Else said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "You couldn't have known."

Ernest lifted his head and looked into her eyes. He gave a wobbly smile. "Thanks, Else. You're really making me feel better."

"Oh, Ernest," Else said softly. "It's okay. We'll do the right thing now and tell the world about Gil."

The bartender slid the cell phone that had been resting in front of Ernest and Else off the bar and into his pocket.

**I hate this chapter. In fact, I wish to death I could do away with it. But you know how I said this fic was just me changing my mind a bunch of times? Some good things come out of that. This chapter is one of the bad things. It was way too easy for Else to get into Prussia's email, but that was the product of my wishy-washiness. **

**Else is actually the stupidest person I've ever written. I didn't mean to make her so dumb and hateful and annoying. I did not actually change my mind about how I would write her. Just other stuff I changed my mind about forced me to kind of change her character. I tried to make amends, as you'll see in a couple chapters, but who knows how that turned out.**

**And Daniel is back and awesome as ever! Please leave any thoughts!**


	19. The Unawesome, Traitorous Bitch AKA Else

**Disclaimer: It doesn't appear that I own Hetalia-Axis Powers. It doesn't appear that way, but I do.**

**My parole officer from that time I supposedly "harassed" Himaruya: *clears throat***

**Me: Fine, I don't own Hetalia.**

_I am awesome. I am also bored, which is not awesome. West never seems to have time for me now that he's taken Italy prisoner. I tried to hang out with Austria and Hungary, but they're dealing with their own effects of the war. This is too stupid. Why won't anyone pay attention to me? They should be pleased to receive my divine awesomeness._

"Gil!" Else cried, rushing forward to hug him during a commercial break. Sometime while Gilbert was at the press conference, Else had decided to forgive him. She was acting overly nice and nurturing though, which worried him. Kartoffel was also being spectacularly cordial to Gilbert, which was more worrying.

"Hey, Else," he said. "What's up?"

Else gave him a bright, somehow sympathetic smile. "Everything is fine with me," she said, stroking his arm. "How have you been? Everything okay?"

"Yeah…?" he replied, confused.

"That's good to hear," she said. Her eyes…were melting. How was she doing that? Seriously, how?

His arm was beginning to grow hot from the friction caused by the hand she was still running along his sleeve, not to mention he was feeling incredibly uncomfortable, so he was glad when his phone rang.

"Hang on a sec," he said, moving away. "Hello?"

_"It's Daniel."_

"Hey kid. Why are you calling?"

_"I have something to tell you regarding two of your coworkers. One of them is the girl who you came to apologize to in the bar before."_

"Else?"

_"I guess. Well she and this fat guy are planning to tell everyone that you're Prussia."_

"Seriously? Seriously?"

_"Am I a liar?"_

"Not usually." Gilbert shut his eyes. "When are they doing it?"

_"I don't know, but I'd think that on air would be the best time."_

"They're probably doing it this broadcast," Gilbert said. "Thanks for telling me, Daniel. I owe you."

_"No problem, Gil."_

Gilbert hung up and turned back to Else. "Else, listen, are you really–"

"Gil! Else! Ernest!" an intern called. "Get into your places! We're on in ten seconds."

Gilbert and Else returned to their places. Gilbert tapped his fingers nervously on the table in front of him. If Else and Kartoffel were going to expose him on air this broadcast, he couldn't do anything right now, not without proof.

"Five. Four. Three. Two. And we're live."

"Hey, we're back to _The Awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt._ Right now, riots in Cologne over actions of national personifications in the past."

"Wait."

Gilbert turned to Else. "Else…stop. Please don't do what I think you're about to do."

Else looked at him, her eyes doing that melting thing again. "I'm sorry Gil. It's for your own good." She turned back to the camera. "Gilbert Beilschmidt is the personification of Prussia!"

Gilbert had always liked attention. That was why he used to enjoy getting into wars. That was why he became a news anchor, and if he could act, he would have become an actor. But right now, he felt that everyone was looking at him, judging him, _thinking_ about him.

And he really didn't like it.

Gilbert stood, pushing the rolling chair that he loved so much back, and ran from the room. He burst into the men's bathroom and locked himself in a stall.

_No no no. I'm not even a country anymore. I'm not even–why should anybody care about me? They cared when I was just Gilbert Beilschmidt, the anchor. Now I'll be Prussia, the failed nation, and the German Democratic Republic, the one that couldn't keep himself away from Russia. I'm even a failure of a _satellite._ I was occupied by the Soviet Union, but I still failed. I can't–I can't…the other nations pity me. Don't pity me! I'm strong! I'll never fade! I'll never submit and go to ex-nation support group! I'm here! _Look_ at me!_

His cell phone rang in his pocket, but he could barely hear it over the sound of his thoughts. No–it wasn't his thoughts. It was his body. He could hear his body through the paper-thin skin.

Fumbling, he answered it.

"H-hello?"

"_Prussia. It's me, Canada."_

_ "And America!"_

_ "Und ich auch. Mich, Deutschland."_

_ "Hi Prussia. It's Hungary and Austria."_

_ "Cuba, France, Spain, and even some of your old Soviet Union friends are on the line as well," _Germany said.

"They aren't my friends."

_"Well apparently you're theirs."_

_ "Prussia," _Canada now, _"I know this isn't what you wanted. But we're all here if you need. It won't be so bad. You'll see."_

"This sucks. This _fucking_ sucks."

_"I know. But Prussia, once upon a time I felt like I didn't matter. Now I know that I matter to you, at least, and you will always matter to me."_

Prussia could nearly hear everyone on the line waiting for his reply. "Okay," he said finally. "I guess I better get back in there."

The nations were cheering as he hung up.

Prussia returned to the set and, adjusting his rolling chair, sat back down. Else was looking at him, worried, but he couldn't bring himself to care about her feelings anymore. Ernest had an unnerving smirk on above his double chin, but after living with Russia, it didn't bother him.

"Yes," he said, smiling into the camera. "I personify the former nation of Prussia, and today I am sort of East Germany."

"This is the break of the century," he heard one of his producers whisper to a man standing next to him quietly enough that the cameras wouldn't pick it up.

"Thank you," Prussia said. "I really have nothing more to say. Any questions you have you can email to me at gbeilschmidt . I guess I resign. This show is now called _The Unawesome, Traitorous Bitch Also Known As Else Müller._"

Prussia stood up and moved to leave the studio. The producer stopped him at the door. "Please, Gilbert, er, Prussia. Please don't go. This will make us."

"You're already made," Prussia answered, and pushed past the producer.

**Oh noes! The secret is out! I mean, come on, Gilly! You are so much awesomer when you aren't insecure. Review, and with just a couple chapters left, I'm looking at you, followers who haven't reviewed ever.**


	20. Answers

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, and frankly, I'm really tired of dealing with the repercussions of thinking I did that one time way back in Chapter Six.**

_I feel really betrayed. I trusted Else and I liked her. I considered us friends. I guess I was kind of a jerk to her, but that doesn't give her the right to hack my personal email and tell everyone in Germany that I'm Prussia. This sucks._

Prussia wasn't wholly surprised when Else showed up at his door. Not surprised at all, actually. Else had shown the way she liked to talk sudden revelations over with people when she'd visited Prussia's apartment after that day when he revealed to her that he was bisexual. That seemed so long ago, but it wasn't really. Who could have known that it would take so little time to be discovered as a nation from when he first found out that people suspected it?

He let Else in. Of course, he did the cursory, "Why should I let you in?" but he would have anyway. He felt hurt by her actions, sure, but he wasn't angry. He wanted to be, but he felt as he did after his last little spat with Kartoffel. Too tired to do anything or feel anything that took much energy. And that included anger.

"Please, Gil," she said. "I thought it was what was best for you."

"Don't call me Gil," he said. "It's no use anymore."

Else didn't respond.

Prussia sighed. "What changed your mind?"

"What?"

"You said 'thought.' Past tense. What changed your mind?"

"You looked so upset. I guess anything that made you so upset wasn't what was best for you."

Prussia sighed again. "Look, Else, you were actually right."

"I was?"

"It is what's best for me. I was dealing with some fears that kept me from telling people who I really was. You saying it kept me from chickening out and not saying it. I am upset, but it's because no one wants to feel as if they have no free will. That's how you made me feel."

"Oh," said Else. She seemed stunned. "So you aren't angry with me?"

"I'm too tired to be angry," Prussia said truthfully.

Just as Else was leaving, Daniel came up to Prussia's apartment.

"Hey Gil," he said. "Here's my phone. It has the recording on it. I thought you'd want to hear it."

"Don't you need this?" Prussia asked.

"Yeah," Daniel said. "But I have to get back to the bar. You can return it tomorrow."

"Okay," Prussia said, taking the phone.

After Daniel left, America said. "Well, this has been an eventful day. I'm exhausted. See you in the morning." He walked into Prussia's bedroom and shut the door.

Prussia frowned. "Wait America. That's my room." He tried the knob. The door was locked. "Dammit."

Canada, sitting on the couch, chuckled.

Prussia flopped down next to him and said, "Don't look so amused. This means we'll have to share the couch."

Canada immediately stopped smiling and ran his eyes over the couch. It was a wonderfully sinky one, but it was barely big enough to hold one person stretched out.

"Mattie," Prussia said.

"Yes?"

"How did you know exactly what to say?"

"You don't need me to tell you. You already know how." Canada smiled. "You do it all the time for me."

Prussia stared at Canada, who looked positively in love. For a second Prussia was jealous, until he realized that Canada looked like that because of him. Then he gave a huge grin. He suddenly felt rejuvenated. Still tired, but less so than before.

"So should we listen to the recording?" Prussia said.

Canada nodded. "I guess so."

Prussia tilted his head, giving Canada a disapproving look. "Don't 'guess so.' Commit, Birdie! Commit!"

Canada laughed, bobbing his head. "Yes. Yes we should listen to the recording."

"They were still laughing a little as Prussia pressed play, but their giddiness didn't last long.

_"Can I tell you something?" _Kartoffel's voice asked. _"I was the one who revealed the nations."_

"So it was Kartoffel," Prussia said. "I knew it."

_ "I've long been a part of the community that searched for evidence about the existence of national embodiments. My number was in the Contact section of the website where we had forums discussing possible sightings. I received a call from a little boy who sent me top-secret documents, mainly from the British government, but some Swedish and Finnish documents as well discussing nations. He gave me the documents only after I'd assured him that I would say that 'Sealand' was a real nation. I didn't though, because I've never heard of a country called Sealand."_

Canada and Prussia exchanged surprised looks. "Peter!" they exclaimed in unison.

America, who was apparently not asleep, came out of Prussia's room. "What about Sealand?"

Prussia replayed the recording for America. He looked uncharacteristically serene.

"All in all, it does make sense," America mused. "Peter must have gotten wind from someone that there was a conspiracy theory about us floating around and figured if he gave the theorists some information they would credit him as a real country."

"It's almost sad," Prussia said, staring down at the table. "And after everything, Ernest betrayed everyone, even his benefactor."

"We better call Tino and Berwald," America said. "And Arthur too."

"They won't believe us," Canada said. "Well England might, but not Sweden and Finland. Not without proof. Can Daniel's phone send recordings?"

"If it could, would he have given it to Prussia?" America snapped.

"Well, _sorry_," Canada hissed back.

"I'm sorry Canadia," America said. "I just…who would of thought it would be one of our own."

"But Sealand isn't one of our own at all," Prussia objected. "Isn't that why he did this? If we hadn't always excluded him, hadn't always told him that he wasn't a country and never would be, he wouldn't have told Kartoffel about us."

"So we brought this on ourselves," America said softly.

The three sat and thought about that for a moment before Prussia shook himself out and said, "We really need to call Sweden and Finland."

"Okay," America said once they had Prussia's phone in hand and Sweden's number typed in, "who here is closest to the Nordics?"

"I'm friends with Denmark," Prussia said. "But that doesn't apply. Anyway, shot not. I called Cuba on behalf of Kumajiro, so I don't have to do this."

"Well, I shot not too."

Canada gave an exaggerated sigh. "I'll do it."

"You have no choice," America said in a 'duh' tone. "Prussia and I both shotted not." He froze suddenly. "Is that really the past tense of shot not?"

"Shh," Canada said. "It's ringing."

Prussia and America waited attentively.

_"Hello? Who is this?"_

"Hi. Finland? This is Canada."

_"Oh, Canada! I am so happy to hear from you! I have been wanting to speak with a reasonable person. Other than Sweden, I have only been talking to Denmark. I am very worried about little Peter. He has been really removed since the secret of the nations has become public knowledge. I don't know why. Berwald and I thought it was because it was worrying him, but we talked to him about it and he hasn't changed!"_

"Uh, that's actually what we wanted to talk to you about," Canada said. "Prussia, America, and I, that is. We know why Sealand has been acting differently."

_"You do? Well tell me please. I just want to help him."_

"Um…we have some bad news."

_"If it helps Peter, it is not bad."_

"Okay, so it's not bad. It is a little _incriminating_ though."

_ "Why? Has he been bothering England again?"_

"No, nothing like that. But he, um, stole some top-secret government files from you, Sweden, and England that would erase all doubts about the existence of the nations and gave them to a kind of…volatile guy that worked with Prussia."

_"That explains his moods, but why would he do that?"_

"Apparently he gave the files to this guy, Ernest, with the condition that Ernest would say that Sealand was a real country."

Finland sighed. _"I'll admit this seems plausible, but I don't want to believe it."_

"We understand that this is a lot to take in. We called you first so you could talk to Peter about it. We do have a recording, by the way."

_"I will discuss this with Sweden and then we will talk to Peter about it. If you would mind not telling people about this until then…?"_

"Of course. We are going to tell Britain, because the bulk of the files are his, according to what the guy said in the recording, but we'll tell him to keep quiet."

_"Thank you Canada. Tell Prussia and America thank you as well."_

"We're sorry to be the bearers of bad news."

_"I am sorry you had bad news to bear."_

Canada hung up and smiled smugly at America. "You said he wouldn't believe us." (America made an immature face in response to that.)

After the call to Finland, America called England and broke the news.

_"What is this?!"_ he raged. _"When I get my hands on Sealand I will make sure his little aircraft carrier or whatever will be annihilated!"_

"I don't think it's an aircraft carrier, England."

_"Oh, I'm _sorry_ I don't know what the hell it's used for! Maybe it's because it isn't a country and it never will be!"_

"England, I know you're angry, but avoid annihilating Sealand until Finland and Sweden have asked him if it's true and admonished him. We told Finland that we wouldn't tell the other nations except you, and that you wouldn't tell."

_"Hrmph. I suppose that makes sense."_

"Right. It totally makes sense to me, too. Especially Russia shouldn't know about it. I'm mad at him about Snowden."

_"Are you angry with Hong Kong too, then?"_

"Nah. I'm just tired of cooperating with Russia, and now I have an excuse to be mad at him."

"Okay, America," Prussia said. "That's enough. You're racking up my bills."

America glared at Prussia. "Don't interrupt. I'm talking with England."

_"Oh, America,"_ England said. _"You always have caused monetary problems, haven't you America?"_

"Hey!" America shouted. "I think that's an insult! Wait–are you suggesting something about all those awful taxes you put on me back in my colony days?"

_"Good guess," _England said. _"Now, I promise I won't be presumptuous about Finland and Sweden's care of Peter, and you promise to be good."_

"Okay. Iggy? Did you hang up on me?" America put down the phone, looking hurt. "He hung up on me."

"It's been a tiring day," Prussia said, taking Canada's arm and backing slowly away. "Let's all go to bed."

Then, suddenly, gripping Canada harder, he spun and rushed into his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

**Why do I have so much trouble making America decently intelligent? **

** I have now cleared one hundred reviews! Thank you so much! And because I feel that anonymous guest reviewers don't get enough love, I declare today Anonymous Guest Reviewer Appreciation Day!**

**Happy Bastille Day, happy birthday to France, and happy Anonymous Guest Reviewer Appreciation Day! Next chapter is the epilogue.**


	21. Awesome-logue

**Hello, and welcome to the epilogue. Let's get the disclaimer out of the way, shall we? Prussia, as the hero of the story, would you do the honors?**

** Prussia: Yeah, okay. I'm not excited about helping you anymore, not after all that emotional abuse you put me through.**

** Me: It could have been worse. I could have put you back in Russia.**

** Prussia: You wouldn't!**

** Me: And you know how these Hetalia fanfiction writers love to have Russia torture you.**

** Prussia: Stop! Stop! I'll say it!**

** Me: So stop saying you'll do it and do it already!**

** Prussia: You're unawesome.**

** Me: Au contraire. I think I'm rather awesome. Anyway, say it already, or I really will torture you.**

** Prussia: You already did, remember? In The Crucible of Trier in Seven Parts?**

** Me: Oh yeah. Hehe…yeah. Why did I make the title so long?**

** Prussia: Unawesome over here does not own Hetalia-Axis Powers or the Awesome Me.**

** Me: Finally! Thank you, Prussia. Wait. What did you call me?**

_This is it, I guess. I'm not a country anymore. I'm just…Gilbert. I don't know what will happen to me, and I really don't want to die, but at any rate, it's a new beginning. Brandenburg went through this, so so can I! I'm sad that for the past several years, my country has been slipping through my fingers, and now the last of it is gone, but I'm excited too. I'm keeping an open mind. I'm willing to see what else life has to offer. The world is good. And I am happy._

Of course, eventually the other nations needed to be told about Sealand and Kartoffel. A lot of them wanted Kartoffel to "rot like bastards like him should," as Romano so eloquently stated.

Sealand was grounded until he became a nation recognized by encyclopedias honestly. "It'll hopefully compel him to work for what he wants instead of resorting to bribery," Finland explained.

"There's never been a law about anything like this," Germany said to Prussia when he wanted to talk to someone and had the pleasant surprise of realizing his older brother was more serene and not acting like a complete idiot as usual, since America and Canada had gone back to their continent earlier that day, America trying to cajole Canada into giving him the money for the vanilla Swiss almond ice cream he owed Cuba.

"Mm," Prussia mumbled.

"I mean, I've been going through all my books on law, and I have several from different countries, though German law would be best in this situation, but it's hard. I have no time to do anything now that everyone wants an interview. I'm so glad you're no longer a reporter by the way, _Bruder_. They're quite vicious."

Prussia sat up straight abruptly. "What did you say?"

Germany looked up from his law books, startled. "I'm glad you aren't a reporter anymore?"

"No. Before that."

"I don't have time to do anything anymore?"

"Yes! Exactly!" Prussia felt like he was burning up. He'd never before burst into flames when excited, but he really thought he might this time. "Don't you see?"

"No." Germany looked at his brother over his glasses. "You look hot. Do you have a fever?"

"Of course I look hot," Prussia replied easily before continuing. "Would you say that your lack of time interferes with your ability to do your job?"

"Yes, I'd say so."

"Enough so that it could cause either a interior or international incident that would cause significant damage to either the country of Germany itself or the government?"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far…"

"But potentially?" Prussia stood up and began pacing.

"I suppose," Germany said, though it was mainly to appease his brother. "Are you sure you're not sick?"

"So could that be classified as treason?"

"Could _what _be classified as treason?"

"What Kartoffel did! Try to keep up, West!"

"I don't know if that's really _treason._"

"But it hurt the fatherland! _You _are the fatherland, and you are irritated, aren't you?"

"That could be it," Germany admitted. He shook his head. "Sometimes I don't know about you, Prussia. Now listen, I'll call a lawyer if you let me take you to the doctor."

"Fine," Prussia agreed, but the doctor told Germany that Prussia was "afflicted with awesomeness." Germany was pretty sure he was paid to say that. He made himself a mental note to look into the doctor at a later date.

"So can Kartoffel be charged for treason?" Prussia kept saying, over an over, while Germany was on the phone with a lawyer. Germany grew more and more irritated until,

"SHUT UP! No, not you, I was speaking to Prussia. What? He can?"

"Yes!" Prussia shouted.

Kartoffel looked particularly sour at his court date. The room was filled. Every nation was present, even if they weren't testifying, and several people who just wanted to watch out of interest were also there.

Germany went up. "Germany," his lawyer said, "how much work did you have prior to Mr. Kohl's exposure of the nations?"

"Very much," Germany answered.

"What did your job entail?"

"I had a lot of paperwork to check over for validity and adherence to German law, and I often had to attend meetings."

"Did you finish your work?"

"Usually."

"Has the workload changed since before Mr. Kohl's exposure of the nations?"

"No."

"Do you finish your work now?"

"Not as often."

"Why not?"

"People pester me for interviews and to support various causes."

"So the effects of Mr. Kohl's exposure of the nations make it difficult to do your work?"

"Yes."

"That is all," the lawyer said, returning to his seat.

The entire trial took months, with no help from Prussia ("He's made me really stressed. Look, I have grey hair!") or Kartoffel ("He's always had grey hair! He's albino!"). There was even a minor international incident ("Figures that this _cagna_ would be _German_." Guess who said that?). Eventually, though, Kartoffel was sentenced to thirteen years in prison.

"Thirteen years?" Romano said, dismayed. "That's too little for him."

"It's an unlucky number," Prussia teased. "Maybe it'll kill him."

"Shut up," Romano muttered, irritably shoving Spain's hand away from his face.

Prussia walked into the building. It seemed like ages since he'd been here. He took a deep breath. He wasn't _nervous_, per se, but he didn't really feel well.

He sat down in his rolling chair and stared into the light for a few moments. He had to teach himself to not shut his eyes all over again. He'd forgotten.

"Ready, Prussia?" a producer asked.

"Yep," he said.

"Five. Four. Three. Two. And we're live."

Prussia pulled on his big grin and said, "Hey, this is _The Awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt_. I'm Prussia. So I quit, but they were just begging and begging to have me back, so I did them a solid and now I work here again. But they think I can't be unbiased," he rolled his eyes, "not that I ever was before, so now this show is where I answer questions about the nations so the others have time to do their work.

"First on the table: why are there so many more male nations than female nations? We don't actually know, but my theory is that it can be explained by natural selection…"

**Ahh! Finished! I really can't believe this, everyone. This story is possibly the longest thing I've ever written.**

** Sincere thanks to everyone who read, followed, favorited, and especially reviewed! It meant the world to me to see reviews coming into my inbox. **

** I do have a little plot bunny forming for a possible sequel(?), but if I ever write it, it will probably not be for a while and will focus on more countries, not just Prussia. I've been wanting to write Switzerland for a while…**

** About that stuff where Prussia doesn't know what year it is–for this story, it was mainly solidifying why Prussia feels that he doesn't really belong with the other nations, which ****_was_**** central to the plot, but who knows, it might be back in the sequel.**

** I'll be in France next year (I'll let you know if a guy with lovely/horrible hair ever tries to hit on me), so I probably won't be around as much in this fandom, or in any fandom, but this is by no means the last you'll see of me! I'll be around, posting the barrage of Hetalia one-shots I plan to spend the remainder of my summer writing, along with Nations in NH, my little easy-writing piece.**

** Again, thanks to everyone who has been there throughout this story.**


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